2013
by PCBW
Summary: A big thank you to Ke Roth who let me piggy back off of her idea! Takes up during early season 7. AU JC romance. Will update regularly. Rating may vary with the chapter!
1. Chapter 1

"So," he drawled, glancing over the sparse dinner table. Dinner conversation had been stilted this evening. Well, he mused, dinner conversation had been stilted over the past few months – that is, when they had dinner.

If he had to put a start to it, he'd say she started changing after they came in contact with the Equinox – metamorphosing into a woman he barely knew anymore. She was becoming impulsive, foolish in small things, careless in others.

"Hmm?" her tone was petulant, almost Seven-like. She didn't look at him, rather she sat uncomfortably, fiddling aimlessly with her uneaten dinner.

"No," he shook his head. "I was just thinking…"

"About?" She looked up, eyeing him cynically.

She knew how she was looking at him; like a spoilt child who's been caught disobeying their parents. She knew she had no reason to treat him like this, to act so churlish, but she couldn't help it recently. She couldn't seem to get herself out of this rut – almost like the void.

He said something but she wasn't paying attention. "I'm sorry?"

"I said, 'seven years'" He enunciated slowly, his frustration with her starting to seep through his soft voice.

"Seven years?"

"It's been almost seven years since we got stranded here in the Delta Quadrant."

"Oh," She mused, not knowing his reason for saying it. Seconds later, though, annoyance and paranoia reared its ugly head. "What's your point?"

"Nothing, Kathryn," he sighed, putting down his fork. "Maybe I shou-"

"Tuvok to the Captain."

She tapped her comm. badge, "Go ahead, Tuvok."

"We've picked up anomalous readings on sensors. A deep space scan registers a singularity. Shall we alter course to investigate?"

She looked to him, seeking empty affirmation. He nodded in response, knowing she was going to do as she pleased regardless of whether or not he offered an opinion. "Yes, alter course; we're on our way."

Nothing more was said of dinner as the two officers hastily made their way to the bridge.

/

"Tuvok, report!" Her command was predictable as she descended the steps to her command chair.

The view screen shifted, zeroing in on a nebula-like anomaly. "What is it?" She walked to Tom's chair, perching behind it as she stared, mesmerised by the swirls of green and purple.

Chakotay walked up behind her, his proximity close if for no other reason than to share her view.

"Unknown, Captain," Harry Kim volunteered.

"Can we get any closer?" Her voice was dream-like, far off.

"Negative," Tuvok responded. "Voyager is too large to get sufficiently close to take further readings."

"Is there any danger?" She's fascinated, having never seen anything like it in her life. The translucent blue beauty was awe-inspiring and she couldn't help but want to know more.

"It is not likely, howev-"

"Commander," She turned to Chakotay, her body brushing against his as she turned. "Accompany me in shuttle bay 2; we're going to have a closer look."

"Captain," Tuvok's voice was predictably cautionary. "We do not know anything about the anomaly-"

"You said it yourself, Tuvok," she was not in the mood to be argued with. She felt bad about dinner, about being so truculent with him; this might be just what they need, she mused – something to do together. They've been fighting for months now and it seems like the days keep bringing hardships that further tear away from her the best friendship she's ever known. And, if she's honest, something more – so much more.

"There's no danger," He moved to object, but she placated him, patting him gently on the shoulder as she walked past. "We'll be within transporter range; hell keep a tractor beam on us if you want!"

They were both in the turbolift before Tuvok could get a word in.  
"You have the bridge, Tuvok!"

/

"It's beautiful, isn't it Chakotay?" She smiled, glancing at him over her shoulder as she manipulated the shuttle sensors. She hoped that something would spark between them again; that they could mend this chasm that she's built.

"Mmm," he shrugged noncommittally.

Not too long ago, he'd have been ecstatic to be alone with her – to have her all to himself. They'd laugh, joke about Tom's latest antics. They'd flirt, skimming on the balance beam of friendship and something more. But now, he was just angry with her – at his wits end.

The console lit up, "Kathryn?"

"I know," she tore her eyes away from the shimmering beauty in front of them.

The shuttle began to jolt so much that even the inertial dampeners couldn't fully compensate.

"Chakotay! It's the anomaly!"

It was pulling the shuttle in. "Reverse thrusters!"

"I am! Nothing's happening!" His hands moved quickly over the console as he tried every trick he knew in order to get them away. But nothing seemed to be working. The anomaly was like quick sand; the harder the struggle, the quicker the pull.

"Kathryn! It's not working!"

"We're being pulled in – Janeway to Tuvok!" She tapped her comm. badge in haste.

Nothing.

"Communicators are offline!"

"Transporters?!" She frantically searched the computer's system.

He shook his head and glanced at her, fear settling in his veins as the swirling blue pulled them closer, the scintillating miasma settling around them.

They should have beamed us out by now, Kathryn thought. "Computer, lock onto Commander Chakotay's and my biosignatures and beam us directly to Voyager!"

The computer didn't respond. Everything was offline.

"Kathryn!"

She looked to him, terrified and looking for purchase, as she grabbed his hand.

All they could do is sit, wait, and hope as the shuttle was battered, tossed back and forth into the anomaly.


	2. Chapter 2

Alive was the first word that entered his mind as he looked around the smoking console and battered bulkheads. He was alive.

Kathryn. Immediately a sinking feeling settled into his stomach. Kathryn.

"Kathryn?" He croaked, his voice groggy and sluggish from concussion.

She didn't answer.

He looked to his right to where she was sitting when he felt her hand in his. Fighting the lethargy he willed himself to move, to touch her.

Wisps of auburn obscured her face, her features hidden from him.

"Kathryn," he repeated her name once more into the hissing emptiness of the shuttle. "Kathryn can you hear me?"

He felt her neck. A pulse - she had a pulse. He watched for the steady rise and fall of her chest. She was alive. Just unconscious.

Where were they?

The last thing he remembered was being pulled into the anomaly. The view screen was black, and the shuttle was silent. And cold.

Keeping Kathryn's hand in his, he tried to activate the console, but it was no use; all systems were down even life support. He sighed, at least wherever they were, the atmosphere was compatible with life.

Ambling over to the back of the shuttle he pried open a med kit, taking out a tricorder. He ran it over himself – no serious injuries, just a bruised rib and a cut on his forehead.

Kathryn, though – there was swelling, some oedema. The readout was in yellow – not life threatening, but serious nevertheless. He breathed a sigh of relief, but worry still gnawed at him when he looked at her unconscious form. He loaded a hypospray with hydrazine and pressed it into her neck, hoping that it would do some good.

But it was getting cold very quickly and they couldn't stay in the shuttle indefinitely. They were both wearing their comm. badges, he mused. Voyager would be able to locate them using those; staying in the shuttle wouldn't proffer them any real benefit.

He found extra coats and environmental gear stored in the aft compartment. Taking them out, he donned the warm Starfleet issue garment and wrapped the other around Kathryn's listless form. She moaned softly as he moved her, but she showed no other signs of waking.

The shuttle was getting colder; he could see his breath meet and billow in the icy air. He had to get them moving, even if he had to carry her. The atmosphere here was compatible with life; maybe he could find help, warmer shelter.

His first battle would be opening the shuttle hatch; if he had any luck, the locking jam wouldn't have initiated.

He was in luck; slowly, and with a wincing amount of strength, the hatch opened and the hydraulic mechanism carried it the rest of the way.

Relieved as he was, Chakotay wasn't ready for the sight that met his eyes.

White.

The world was covered in heaps of white – beautiful, chilling, mounds of fluffy, white untainted snow. He stood for a moment, taking in the quiet and the peacefulness of his surroundings as he again watched his breath puff out before him. He'd never seen anything like it; only on the holodeck, or in photos that Kathryn had shown him of Indiana. And even in spite of his anxiety over Kathryn and their current state of abandon, he couldn't help but indulge in the beauty of the moment.

He surveyed the scene before him; it was silent, somnolent and entrenched in the throes of winter. He could hear far off sounds, but their origin was unfamiliar. But, overall, it was silent – not a soul in sight. The milieu was somewhat familiar - the trees looked similar to those he'd seen in Kathryn's photos; tall pines and firs. He listened more closely; a source of flowing water wasn't too far off. He stepped off the shuttle and into the show. It was deeper than he thought – up to his shins. The ground under his feet was frozen, rocky.

He stepped outside of the umbrage of the shuttle and scanned his surroundings once more; it was vast. They were in a forest, on the edge of a clearing. There was a rocky crag obscuring the shuttle from view. There were no other hints as to where they were.

The cold was seeping into his boots; time to get moving.


	3. Chapter 3

She was still in the same place that he left her; still unconscious, dead to the world and all that had happened to them in the short duration of time.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he effortlessly picked her up into his arms.

Looking around him at the destroyed craft, he couldn't help but think that this was all his fault. It had even been a running joke on Voyager: how many shuttles could Chakotay lose?

In truth he had been surprised when she had haphazardly chosen him for this mission. The truth was that she hadn't thought it over; she made up her mind that he was going with her, regardless the warning that Tuvok had given. But hehad said nothing though; he let her have her way and went along. It seemed to be easier that way.

There had been talk among the lower decks; no one said anything to him directly –they wouldn't dare, not even B'Elanna- but everyone thought it: Commander Chakotay had become the Captain's lap dog. He didn't blame them for saying it when he was the one thinking it. And it was true – he'd stopped fighting with her because he'd stopped caring. In truth, he didn't have any fight left in him.

In the early days, he'd enjoyed sparring with her. It was like a game – how much ground could he gain? How much would she give? They used it to flirt; those arguments were more a way to relieve the sexual tension than anything else.

But now, he shook his head as he looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms, he just didn't have it in him anymore.

She was light as he supported her, her head lolling over onto his shoulder as he stepped into the deep snow.

The wind picked up, blowing a dusting of the cold mist into his face. It was chilling, more so than he thought, even in these warm coats. The cold kept seeping into his leather boots, turning cold liquid and robbing more heat.

He wasn't used to this. He used to laugh at Kathryn when she said she missed winters in Indiana. He couldn't imagine why. He'd been relatively isolated from the cold all his life; Dorvan had been a warm planet, so had Trebus, and so had San Francisco. He couldn't remember a time in his life where he'd had to bundle up or trudge through mounds of snow like he was doing now.

He felt her breathe, steady and warm, against the skin of his neck. It was calming, assuring - she was alive, okay for the moment.

Chakotay looked back, worried about leaving the shuttle so exposed. Not sure of where he was, he worried about someone finding it. But, he decided, the trees and the rocky crag obscured it well enough. He would have to deal with it eventually, but hopefully Voyager would come back before then. Right now, though, all he wanted was get help and warm up.

He made his way through the tall trees, their pines casting a darker shadow over an already dim day. In spite of the anxiety, he felt himself strangely and uncharacteristically at peace. He couldn't remember being anywhere so beautiful.

These trees were almost as high as the redwoods in California. He'd been awestruck by their beauty when he first saw them. Their sheer age in and of itself was baffling. When he'd stood at the roots of one of them, he'd felt so small, so insignificant – like his place in history was but a whisper, a fleeting breath.

Those trees had been standing for thousands of years, and their roots were just as strong as they were the day they sprouted. He looked to the ones around him; they were just as impressive, but even more beautiful as they were covered in the most beautiful blanket of white.

This air was crisp, cool and refreshing. It had been so long since he'd breathed anything other than the recycled atmosphere aboard the ship. He thought back wryly to the last time he was on solid ground: Species 8472's recreation of Earth. But that hadn't been the same; it was still a simulated environment. This, though, unless it was a dream – this was real. It had to be; it felt real: the iciness of the air, the cold seeping into his pant legs and leather boots, and the dull quiet.

He looked again at the form of his sleeping captain and friend. Saying a quick prayer, he fervently hoped she'd be alright. Absentmindedly, he kissed her forehead, nuzzling her hair.

"Please be okay, Kathryn," he whispered. "Please."


	4. Chapter 4

The forest seemed to go on forever. But, just as despair was about to set in, a clearing became visible ahead.

He felt the woman in his arms stir. "Kathryn?" It must have been an hour now since the crash, since he started walking. Her only response was to nuzzle closer into his shoulder. She seemed unconcerned, not unconscious, but not awake. He was glad, he decided, that she was still asleep.

Truth be told, if she were awake, there would have been an argument or six by now. She would have raised questions, been angry, frantic and panicked. But at the same time, he'd wished that she'd seen the snow with him. He wanted to share that with her; to see the look on her face when she saw it.

He loved experiencing things with her; he loved being with her. Even when they were arguing, even when he thought he couldn't take any more of it – he still wanted to be near her, to breathe her in, watch her facial expressions, even the ones made in anger.

A road. He reached the clearing and recognized a road. He was wary, at first, of walking along it – so obviously exposed and out in the open. But he took the chance anyway.

She moved again, this time her arms slipping around his neck. "Chakotay," she whispered softly before her breathing deepened and normalized again. He could have imagined that tone in her voice – the tone of want, of love. Both things he felt so strongly for her.

His musings were interrupted by something coming from behind him. It was getting closer and quickly. Before he knew it, he could see a light cast upon the road in front of him before he heard a crunching sound – almost like the sound that those olden cars made in Tom's old timey holodeck programmes.

He turned around to see a large vehicle slowing down and coming towards him. The lights were blinding as they shined in his eye. He looked away, holding Kathryn closer to him. Fear was setting in.

The vehicle slowed down to a crawling halt before coming to a full stop. It was almost menacing – large and high off the ground with a wide back. He heard a sound and a hatch on the side of it opened.

"Are you alright?" He heard the voice before he saw its owner. It was mellow, warm.

Human.

For a moment he was confused. Were they on Earth? He didn't recognize it. And this vehicle certainly wasn't a shuttlecraft.

She spoke again, coming into view. "Are you alright, son?"

He stuttered finding his voice. "Lost," was the only word he could come up with despite his confusion.

She smiled at him, her face kind, wrinkled with age. "Do you need some help?"

"Yes," he responded dumbly.

She came closer, keeping her eyes on Kathryn as she gingerly touched her forehead, then her neck for a pulse as she scrutinized her in the low light of dusk. Chakotay pulled her away at first, still unsure of the woman. She simply looked up at him, and smiled reassuringly, "just making sure she's alright."

He didn't respond, but his posture relaxed, and the set in his jaw let loose somewhat.

"Why don't you get in the car and we'll try sort you two out, hmm? We'd better get off the road before someone else comes along! It's getting darker earlier and earlier these days!"

It could have been a trick, for all he knew. But he was so cold, so desperate to get help for Kathryn, and shelter that he went along.

"I'm Jan, by the way," she grinned as she opened the door for him. "Do you need any help with her?"

"No," he shook his head, unwilling to relinquish her, as he hoisted himself into the warm vehicle. Jan smiled and closed the door, making her way back around to the front.

Before moving, she looked back at him worriedly and then glanced at Kathryn. "Does she need to go to the hospital? What happened to her?"

"She had a concussion," he looked down at the sleeping woman. "I think she's just sleeping now."

She shifted the car into gear. "How long ago?"

"About an hour."

"Has she shown any signs of wakefulness since then?"

"Yes. She said my name."

"I'm worried-"

"I checked her," he demurred. "She's alright."

"She should be," Jan's voice strained as she turned the large wheel onto a small path. "We'll monitor her at the house; there's a hospital nearby should we need it."

The woman seemed unconcerned, nonchalant almost as she drove down the dark path. With the flick of her wrist the lights shining on the path became brighter. "There's the house," she pointed. "I'm afraid we're in for a big snow storm this evening – the weatherman said we'd be getting another six inches! Can you imagine?" She was amused with herself. "That's winter in Indiana for you!"


	5. Chapter 5

Indiana?

Chakotay's heart stopped.

How could they be in Indiana?

Jan looked back, still smiling. "Did I say something wrong, dear?"

"No," he forced himself to un-crease his brow. "No." He lied. Question after question started to bubble in his mind. Were they home? This didn't seem like the 24th century. Was this another one of Braxton's tricks? Where was Voyager? Would they be able to find them?

The halting of the car brought a stop to his musings. They were in front of a large home on what looked to be a sizeable piece of property. Evening had set so he couldn't see much into the distance, but he could barely make out a smattering of small scattered buildings and what looked to be a rather large body of water.

"Well," Jan turned off the ignition and turned around. "This is home." She looked at Kathryn again. "Let's get her inside, check her out, and then we can see about getting you the help you need, hmm?"

"Jan!" A voice called from the house. She looked back at Chakotay. "That's my husband Gregg."

"What is it, honey?" She clamoured out of the car, walking towards a tall, lanky older gentleman.

"Did you get the groceries? Do you need any help?" He heard him ask before he eyed Chakotay. "And who's this?"

"I picked up a few stragglers on the side of the road," she walked back with him towards the vehicle. "I think they're lost, and might have gotten into an accident-"

"Why didn't you call the police?" He looked at her, not angry exactly, but with a familiar glint of exasperation.

"He's not a criminal, Gregg!" She countered.

He just smiled and nodded his head resignedly. "Okay, honey…"

Suddenly Chakotay felt uncomfortable – well more uncomfortable than he already was. "Hey there," Gregg opened the door. "Jan tells me you were in an accident."

"Yes," Chakotay swallowed, still holding Kathryn close.

The older gentleman looked at the woman in his arms. "Why don't you bring her inside and we'll see what we can do."

He held her gingerly as he made his way out of the car. "Jan," Gregg looked back at his wife, his arm on Chakotay's shoulder.

"Yes honey?" Smiled, reappearing alongside him carrying several bags.

"Do you need any help?"

"No, no," she shook her head and signaled towards the house, her arms full of the shopping. "It's cold and I want to get inside."

The home was warm. Cozy was the only world he could come up with as he looked at the broad layout replete with soft sofas and intricately patterned red carpets. A fire burned against the far wall, its soft light and warmth dousing the home in a faint glow.

"Now," Gregg's voice roused him from his musing. "We have a spare bedroom down this way." He pointed as he started walking, ushering Chakotay into a bedroom at the end of a short hallway.

The bed looked soft, inviting, as he laid her down gently against the pillows. She stirred ever so slightly, latching onto his arm as he pulled it away and he could tell that she was fumbling towards wakefulness. Now that he saw her in the proper light he noticed a bruise on her forehead, a small cut just above her cheek. Absentmindedly he went to touch both mars, letting his fingers linger as if he were trying to erase them.

"How long has she been unconscious?" Gregg's voice broke through the relative silence.

"A little over an hour now… But I think she's just sleeping." He'd scanned her with the tricorder; its readout hadn't indicated a bleed or haemorrhage, so he hadn't worried. But an hour? Now that he thought about it, it was a long time.

The older gentleman moved around the bed, nudging Chakotay out of the way as he bent to her level. "There are no external signs of bleeding." He gently palpated her skull, noting any irregularities or evidence of haematoma. Briskly he lifted her eyelids. "No pupillary dilation, so no evidence of brainstem injury." He sat for a while, still scrutinizing her. "She should be fine. We'll leave her here to sleep. It's not unusual for people who've had a concussion to feel tired. Why don't you follow me out to the kitchen?" He smiled, "I think Jan is making dinner."


	6. Chapter 6

"Would you like to take off your coat?" Gregg asked warmly, smiling that he still had it on.

"Oh, umm, yes," he bumbled, sliding his arms out of the standard puffy white parka.

"That's an interesting uniform you've got there," Gregg looked him up and down. "Military?"

"Something like that…" They certainly weren't in the 24th century, or Gregg would have noticed the insignia on his uniform. A chill ran though him as he noticed that his pant legs were still soaking from the snow, as were his shoes.

"You're not from around here," Gregg's voice was skeptical – cautious as he took in more and more of the stranger in front of him. "Are you?"

"No," Chakotay shook his head as he handed the bulky coat into Gregg's outstretched hand.

"Oh well," the older gentleman shrugged. "We don't see too many people from far away…"

"Oh," Chakotay offered passively as Gregg led him to a large kitchen. He took in the room; no evidence of 24th century replicator technology that he could recognize. The room looked similar to the kitchens in the houses of the traditionalists on Dorvan. He fondly remembered women who totally eschewed the comforts of the 24th century, relying on stoves and open fires instead to prepare their meals. In fact, the room looked like a more elaborate Captain's galley. He smiled weakly; oh what fun Neelix would have padding around this vast layout.

"What's your name, son?"

"Chakotay." He answered simply.

"Chakotay, huh? That's an interesting name. Don't think I've ever heard that before…" He scratched the back of his head, "Where does it come from?"

"It's Native American."

"Native American, huh? I knew a guy once, Native American, – grew up on a reserve in Wyoming. Brilliant physician! He had a name like yours."

"Oh?" It was all he could come up with. He mused to himself: he was becoming rather monosyllabic these days.

"I think it's a beautiful name," Jan smiled as she removed a small container from one of the cabinets.

"So, how did you into the accident, Chakotay?" Gregg walked around and looked into the fragrant pot she was stirring. "Is your car nearby? Do you need us to call a tow truck?"

Tow truck? What was that? "No," he stammered, sitting himself into the high stool Gregg pulled out for him. "I don't know. We're lost…"

He couldn't help but notice how cagey he was being; how suspicious he appeared to these two lovely people. He wished he could offer them more, but he still had so many questions himself.

The older couple shared a look of concern and confusion before turning back to him. He could imagine they didn't know what to make of him; he wouldn't if he were in their position.

"Well," Gregg sighed, walking over to the cabinet and removing bowls. "You two can stay with us for the night and then tomorrow you can be on your way-"

"We don't have anywhere to go," He looked away, shy, burdened – nervous for what the next day would bring, among other things.

"What do you mean, son?" Gregg turned back to him, laying his palms on the dark marble counter.

"We're lost," He was starting to go in circles. "We don't have anywhere to go."

Jan's face dropped and she stopped her movements near the stove. "Well don't you worry," Her voice was suffused with compassion. "We've been looking for some help here at the camp during the winter season. You can-"

"Chakotay?" A familiar alto called from the bedroom. "Chakotay?" She called again before he was out of his seat.

She emerged from the bedroom, head in her hand as she walked hazily to him. "Chakotay, what's going on? Where are we?"

Relief washed over him that she was all right – that she had finally woken up. But worry immediately took over its stronghold as he panicked over what to tell her. How would he explain this – where they were, when he didn't fully understand it himself?

"Kathryn," He breathed her in, looked her up and down confirming that she was indeed all right. "I, umm," he moved her out of the hall into the bedroom again. "Kathryn we're-"

"What?" Her voice was still foggy from sleep, but demanding nevertheless.

"We're lost." He kept his voice low. "The anomaly – we were in a shuttle accident. There was a crash, you were unconscious and –"

"Is everything okay, dear?" Jan and Gregg walked into the room, their faces a mix of delight and concern as they looked Kathryn up and down as he had done not a moment ago.

"Yes," It never ceased to surprise him how well Kathryn could take control of a situation. Her voice was steady, calm, betraying the confusion she invariably felt.

"I'm Kathryn Janeway, I'm sorry I don't know who you are," she smiled lopsidedly at the older woman as she held out her hand.

"Jan," she smiled. "And this is my husband Gregg." She chuckled, "you gave us all quite a scare there for a while. Your husband was worried sick about you!"

Kathryn blushed, "he's not my husband."

"Oh?" Gregg laughed. "You fooled us then!"

Jan slapped his shoulder as she continued, "You were out for quite a while. Do you remember what happened?"

Kathryn shook her head, "No."

"You were in a car crash, from what Chakotay tells us. You don't remember anything?"

She shook her head again, confusion starting to take root. "Car crash?"

"Yes," Chakotay covered. "I'm sorry, Kathryn. I was trying to tell you-"

"It's alright, Chakotay," her hand found its way to his chest. "Thank you for taking us in," she regarded the older couple.

"It's our pleasure, dear," she smiled. "Chak-otay tells us that you don't have anywhere to go?"

"No-" realization started to dawn on her as she took in her surroundings. "We're, uh," she started to fumble. "We're-"

"It's okay, Kathryn," Jan quieted her with a hand on her arm. "You must be a long way from home. You're welcome to stay with us until you find your way. Why don't you come into the kitchen and have some dinner? You poor dears must be starving!"

Chakotay took her arm gingerly as they followed the older couple back into the cavernous kitchen. The room smelled fragrant, reminding him of his unfinished dinner on Voyager.

"Vegetarian chilli," She smiled as she ladled the thick mixture into bowls and set it on the table. "Gregg and I try to eat at least one meatless meal a week – I have this theory that it keeps both of our cholesterol in the green range."

"Thank you," Chakotay smiled. "I'm a vegetarian so I'll like it just fine."

Kathryn eyed her bowl suspiciously before tucking into it. It had been a while since she'd eaten anything other than Neelix's leola root creations or whatever she could wriggle out of her replicator un-burnt. This, on the other hand, was a treat. It was warm and flavourful - something she hadn't really had since she'd been on Earth. She smiled for a second; this tasted like something her mother would make. Jan reminded her of her mother – trusting and kind. Still, though, she was full of questions. The captain in her demanded answers – where were they? Where was Voyager? What had happened? Chakotay had said they were in a car crash – why?

"So," Jan looked up from across the table. "Kathryn, what is it that you and Chakotay do?"

"Do?" She had no idea how to answer. And then it hit her; the surroundings, the car crash – the anomaly. Something had happened, she wasn't quite sure what, but she knew something was deeply wrong. "We're-"

"I was going to say military," Gregg smiled at his wife for her curiosity. But questions burned at him as well.

"Military," Kathryn repeated. "I suppose you could say that."

"You're both in uniform – that's why I asked. But those don't look familiar to me. You can't possibly be Army. Navy wears white or blue. And Marines black, or fatigues. Air Force?"

Air Force? "Something like that," she countered.

"I get it," Gregg smiled conspiratorially; "you're special ops, aren't you?"

"Umm," Chakotay fumbled.

"Honey," Jan chastised with a hand on her husband's arm. "Stop, they're exhausted! Let them be at peace."

"Alright," Gregg sighed. "I'm sorry. I bet that's why you can't talk about it." He smiled before resuming his dinner.

A pit settled in Kathryn's stomach. She'd been in this situation before; she was out of time. Without warning a vice seemed to set around her head, leaving her with a familiar tension headache. "I think I'm finished," she looked up. "Would it be alright if I laid down?"

"Of course," Jan stood. "You know where the bedroom is." She paused for a moment. "I know you two aren't married, but we only have the one spare bedroom, and-"

"It's alright," Chakotay interrupted as he stood about to follow her; "we can share."

Jan smiled. "There are extra blankets in the closet and we can lend you two some pajamas. Gregg, would you mind getting Chak-otay some of your sweatpants and a shirt?"

Handing them nightclothes the older couple said their goodnights. "Don't hesitiate to ask for anything. There's a bathroom ensuite so feel free to take a shower, or a bath. There should be towels, but if you need more there are some in the cabinet in the hallway," she pointed: "Third door on the left."

"Thank you," Chakotay replied as they walked away, leaving him and Kathryn alone in the bedroom. He was grateful for their trust – for their kindness towards them in spite of the shoddy explanations that they had given. He'd never been shown such unconditional kindness before and somehow, even in spite of all the questions he had, that gave him some semblance of hope and comfort.


	7. Chapter 7

"You're something else, you know that?" The older man looked down affectionately at his wife as he nuzzled her short hair.

"I know, Gregg, but I couldn't just pass them by! It was freezing out there! The snow is up practically to my thigh-" She shook her head as she carried on emphatically, keeping her gaze on the dying embers as she raised her cold feet under her.

"We don't know anything about them-"

"Other than they're scared, and alone…" She looked up at him. "I'm sorry; I know it wasn't the smartest thing, to take them in… but…"

"I know why you did it; you never could turn down a stray. Why do you think we built a heated barn for all your feral cats?"

She chortled at her own habits. "What do you make of them?"

He laughed at her obvious question. "The cats?"

She laughed, "No! Chakotay and Kathryn, silly!"

"What do I make of them?" He shrugged. "I don't know what to make of them. Those uniforms – I'm no expert on the government, you know I try to stay as far away from politics as humanly possible bar twice a year when we have to vote… but they're like nothing I've ever seen before."

"Do you think they're in trouble?"

"I think they're trouble…"

She turned her body fully, "well what would you have me do? Turn them away? Send them off into the cold, Gregg? We can't do that!"

"No," he shook his head at her options. "We can't." He thought on it a while, his encounter with the two relative strangers playing back through his head. "They're no bumpkins, that's for sure. Kathryn seems smart, capable – commanding. And Chakotay seems thoughtful, supportive. I can't believe they aren't married!"

"Mmm," Jan mused, remembering his protectiveness, possessiveness over her sleeping form. "He's very protective of her…"

"What are we going to do with them?" His question cut right to the heart of their conversation.

"It's not a secret that we need help here – we can't keep up with all the applications and the paperwork even working part time. Without the summer volunteers, we need help with small things that you can't do with your knee that maybe Chakotay can help with…"

"Mmm, but will they stay? Why have they nowhere to go?"

She didn't have a good answer; she wasn't expected to. "I don't know. For all we know they could be on the run… maybe I've seen too many of those foolish Bourne movies, but they don't seem dangerous – just lost and scared. The least we can do is give them a place to stay…" She looked at him straight on, "Gregg, we've been shown a lot of kindness in our life. Remember when we were young – during medical school – we had nothing and Allen and Alice Foster showed us kindness by letting us live rent-free in their home?"

Gregg smiled, thinking of those days; they'd been young, broke, all their money going towards school and their loans to paying off Jan's deceased parents' medical bills. What little money they had left over was used for food and what meagre rent they had to offer the Fosters. "I remember," he winked; "so you're saying it's time to pay it forward?"

She nodded, turning her eyes back to the glowing embers, "Yes."


	8. Chapter 8

He steeled himself as he turned back towards her, expecting questions and belligerence. But when he turned he found her with his back to him, standing by the window.

"Please, Chakotay," she typically held up her hand like she did when staving off an argument or when she was trying to avoid derision between them. "Please tell me we weren't caught in a time-space anomaly…"

He shook his head, "I can't tell you that, Kathryn. I think we were. I don't recognize anything," He sat on the bed, facing her as she turned around to look at him.

"What happened? Tell me everything, from the beginning."

He thought back to what was just three hours ago now. "The last thing I remembered was the anomaly and then I woke up in the shuttle; you were unconscious. It had crashed; the bulkheads were damaged – the viewscreen out. All systems shot. I scanned you – you suffered minor injuries and there was mild cerebral swelling likely from hitting your head on the console…"

She nodded, her hand going up to the painful fresh bruise on her forehead as he continued. "I noticed that it was getting cold, but that environmental controls were off. We were still breathing so obviously the outside environment was compatible with life. But it was getting cold quickly, so I wrapped you in a jacket and went to survey outside the shuttle."

He smiled when he remembered the first time he'd seen the snow.

"What?" She whispered at his far off look.

"That's when I saw it," he smiled. "The snow."

She turned around to look outside the window and smiled weakly when she registered the outside environment. "I hadn't really noticed before now. I've been so preoccupied." She wiped her eyes tiredly. "Where are we?"

He didn't know an easy way to tell her – to drop the ultimate bombshell. So he just decided to say it: "Indiana."

She turned to him fully, stepping away from the cool pane of glass. He predicted her reaction and reality wasn't far off. Her eyes widened almost inhumanly, her neck reddened. He could almost feel what she was; speeding heart rate, bounding pulse, subtle perspiration, that pit feeling in the stomach… He'd felt it too. "What?" Was all her hoarse voice could produce.

"Indiana. We're in Indiana." He said it more for himself than for her benefit. He still didn't believe it.

"What year is it?"

He shook his head, wondering the same question. "I don't know."

She looked around the room almost frantically, her eyes coming to rest on a luminescent clock near the bed. Walking over to it, she picked it up, scrutinizing the bright readout. "Chakotay," she whispered as he came up rest behind her.

"What?" He asked rhetorically.

"December 18, 2013…" She date rolled over and over in her mind as her head fell into her hands and she crumpled onto the soft bed. "God I hate temporal anomalies! I made it my mission in life never to get caught in one ever again! Twice is already too much!"

He sat beside her, close enough, but not too. The date resonated as he kept his eyes on the clock; 2013. He'd been a history minor at the Academy; he'd memorized all the important history dates as it pertained to the Federation and then some. Within nanoseconds it dawned on him.

"2015," he whispered.

"Mmph," she nodded. "She knew it too; it was hard not too – that was when everything changed. The unrest had started in 2014 between the Americans and the Russians and China. It had been a mimicry of the Cold War; tensions rose, nuclear arms were pointed and targets engaged. On November 16, 2015, the pin dropped and the world went up in flames.

He begged the one question they so desperately wanted an answer to: "Do you think Voyager will come back for us? Do you even think they can find us?"

Her heart sank at the mention of Voyager; in the hullaballoo, she'd neglected to think of it. How, she couldn't fathom. "Voyager," she whimpered regretfully. "God, Chakotay! What are we going to do?" She got up, pacing. "What was I thinking, Chakotay? Both of us leaving the ship?"

Tears built behind her eyes at their situation; "They may never find us! How could they? We don't have that kind of technology!"

"They found us in 1996; why should this be any different?" But he knew better; three years ago had been a completely different circumstance. Their whole ship had been transported back to 1996 – it had been a trap by Captain Braxton. Circumstances had been "controlled" and at the end of the mission, the "time police" had transported them back to their own time.

"You know why, Chakotay!" She snapped, glaring at him. "I'm sorry," she crumpled next to him at her wits end. "I'm sorry." Tears ate at her, ambling aimlessly down her cheek as she clenched her fists in frustration. Her whole body was shaking, vibrating the bed. She was overcome.

His hand went out to her, but he pulled back before he could touch her. She noticed and it stung. "We should get some rest," he sighed. "Why don't you use the bathroom and get changed. I'll go after you."

She nodded, not meeting his gaze; there was nothing else left to do other than go round and round in circles, hating herself and questioning her every decision. So she picked up the pile of clothing Jan had left for her and headed to the bathroom.

He watched her go, disappearing behind the door, and then looked at the bed. They'd been close before, but never this close; they'd never had to share a bed - a small shelter, yes, but never something as intimate as a bed. He opened the closet where Jan told him extra blankets were. They'd have to make the best of it. He already knew she was uncomfortable – upset and angry not only with herself and her circumstance, but with him. Anger towards him was normal – her coldness had become a part of her routine.

He thought she blamed him; he was driving the shuttle – this was his fault. Maybe if he'd tried a different manoeuvre, if he'd been quicker, then they wouldn't be in this situation.

He took out an extra blanket and laid it on the floor and took a pillow from the plethora on the bed. He knew intuitively that she'd already been uncomfortable about sharing a room with him; the bed, he thought – yes the bed would be too much.

Kathryn always had these absurd notions of the past – especially this time. On the holodeck she'd always chosen programmes that portrayed the more romantic time periods: dabbling in the Maestro's studio, or visiting Victorian England. And then there was that completely absurd jaunt to Tom's Dr. Chaotica programme not 6 months ago.

But this time period – the 21st century? She'd never had an interest. But she was surprised as she looked around; though this was essentially three centuries behind her, there weren't that many differences. In fact, everything looked like a nicer version of what she had on Voyager. Her hands ran over the cool marble of the vanity and the clean porcelain of the generously sized bathtub.

It was hard to enjoy anything or take any anthropological interest in her surroundings when she was so distraught. How could this have happened? She felt eminently foolish for being so reckless – for leaving the ship against Tuvok's wishes. She rolled her eyes about what he would say when she saw him again – if she saw him again, she amended.

And Chakotay? She felt horrible for the way she was treating him. They'd been in a rut for months – so much for that expedition being the impetus for mending their relationship. No, she thought to herself. No. She wouldn't do this to him anymore; it wasn't his fault that they were here. This just happened. If anyone was to blame it was herself; she'd been foolish to go on this mission. She knew better than to have the two most senior officers leave the ship at the same time to explore an unstable phenomenon. It was reckless and selfish and now they were lost without any hope of getting back. And not only that, she left a ship in the Delta Quadrant – 150 people without a captain and a first officer.

She shrugged her shoulders, rubbing her temples. She knew Chakotay was out there blaming himself. And he'd been wonderful; brought her to safety, taken care of her. And she treated him poorly – she had for the past few months, years really. Why he put up with her, why he was nice and courteous towards her she had no idea. No, she resolved to herself – she would talk with him (something they hadn't been doing lately). She would tell him this wasn't his fault.

The door opened, his eyes snapped up to meet hers, and he smiled weakly; he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her in anything other than her Starfleet uniform. Well, the last time he had she'd been wearing a period costume. He shuddered inwardly at the memory; that had been when she'd taken up with a hologram – Michael. It could have been laughable if it wasn't such a slap in the face. But she'd been beautiful in that dress, even though it obscured anything overtly feminine about her. And even now – in baggy pair of patterned red bottoms and a T-shirt, she took his breath away.

"Chakotay?" Her voice broke through his musings. "Chakotay, the bathroom's yours."

He nodded, picking up the sweatpants and T-shirt and disappearing into the bathroom without meeting her gaze. It felt good to get out of his uniform; he hated the damn thing anyways. It was scratchy, baggy, but then tight in all the wrong places. The pants were still mildly damp on the bottom, so he hung them on the towel rack to dry. The jacket and the coat he folded and put aside with Kathryn's.

Gregg was a smaller man than he was, and the pants were a little tight, but still comfortable nevertheless. The shirt the same, but they felt worn, comfortable, and he was grateful that he wasn't freezing in the shuttle. He was grateful that Kathryn was safe. She was always his priority – not just because she was his captain, but because he loved her – he'd do anything for her just to be protected, to be happy.

She scanned the bed and smiled weakly when she looked at his arrangement. It was so like Chakotay to be concerned about something like that. But her heart ached when she saw his arrangement on the floor. No, Chakotay, she shook her head. No.

The door opened and he looked to her. She smiled in spite of herself and walked towards him. "Chakotay you don't have to sleep on the floor. Please," She moved a little closer – "Please don't".

His shoulders slumped. "It's alright, Kathryn. I got us into this – you take the bed."

"No," She walked past him bending to retrieve the pillow and the extra blanket and re-deposited them on the bed. "It's not your fault and I'm sorry that I made it seem that way." She moved to him again, seeing his look of uncertainty. "It's not your fault," she repeated.

He nodded, not in the mood to argue. "I'll sleep on top of the covers then," his shoulder brushed hers as he sat on the bed.

She nodded in acquiescence, "Alright."

The two settled on the bed. "How do you turn the lights out?" She asked, completely clueless.

He smiled. "I remember similar ones from when I was growing up." He looked under the lampshade, seeing what he anticipated. "There's a small black mechanism that you turn." She followed his instructions, locating the black knob and turned it. The lights went out and the room fell into blackness.

"Sweet Dreams, Kathryn."

"Goodnight Chakotay."


	9. Chapter 9

He woke the next morning, the smell of coffee lingering in the air. He smiled, momentarily unaware of his surroundings, as he thought of Kathryn – coffee was her smell. He couldn't smell it without picturing her.

Sleep momentarily beckoned him to return. It had been a while since he'd slept on anything other than the cold standard Starfleet issue mattress in his quarters. This mattress was warm, yielding as he turned over onto his side.

He opened his eyes, though, staving off sleep's tempting offer. And that's when it all came back to him; the crash, Indiana, 2013, everything. He jolted at the memory, immediately roused from somnolence.

He turned back to look for Kathryn, but she was gone – her side of the bed cold and rumpled.

The icy wooden floor met his warm feet, chilling him again. As he moved closer to the closed door he heard it – he heard laughter, Kathryn's laughter.

He walked gingerly into the small corridor and looked towards the kitchen where he saw her sitting at the table, a hot mug cradled in her hands as she spoke animatedly with Jan and Gregg.

Gregg's smiled stayed in place as he eyed Chakotay. "Chakotay, good morning!" he greeted. "Pull up a chair, we were just talking with Kathryn here about her search for the perfect cuppa."

"Cuppa?" Chakotay ambled over to where they were sitting, amused by the use of a term he'd never heard before.

"Cuppa coffee," Kathryn turned to him, smiling as she regarded him full on.

"Mmm," Chakotay mused as he sat at the table with them, all in their pajamas as the morning light seeped into the tall windows. He couldn't help but gaze and take in their surroundings. His observations the other night weren't far off; they were on a large piece of property settled on a lake. The house was set on somewhat of an incline, set apart from the other two dozen or so wooden buildings in the makeshift valley. They extended all around the landlocked lake.

There was a barn not too far from the house proper and everything – everything – was covered in a thick white blanket of snow. And the white just kept coming down from the heavens, adding to the pristine white blanket that already lay.

He turned back to the group who was regarding him skeptically. "Well," he chuckled. "If there's one thing that Kathryn can talk about, it's coffee. With all of the gallons she drinks, it's a wonder she hasn't turned into a coffee bean!"

"Finest organic substance ever devised," she raised her cup to her face, inhaling the steaming odour.

"Mmhmm," Gregg mimicked her gesture. "You'll have no arguments from me or Jan here; we've practically lived off the stuff!"

Jan nodded her head, grinning at her husband. "It got us through many a late night at the hospital, and here at the camp with the kids…"

"Camp?" Chakotay turned back to regard the outside and the many buildings surrounding the house.

"We own a camp here that we run during the summer." Gregg volunteered. "We've been doing it for years now."

"What kind of camp?" Chakotay's interest piqued.

"It's called Camp Adventure. Every summer we get around 500 or more kids who come just to get away from their normal routine and enjoy the outdoors with other kids like them, who are going through the same things they are."

"What do you mean, 'kids like them'?" Kathryn asked, setting her coffee cub down on the worn wooden table.

"All our kids are sick – some getting treatment, others terminal or in remission. They come here with their families to get away from the hospital for a little bit – and the kids love it, look forward to it."

Jan smiled, her mind drifting to summers filled with happy children. "We've been doing it for the last 17 years. Every year we get thousands of applications from different families who want their kids to be able to have a normal camp experience like all their friends even though their sick."

Kathryn was mortified, but she remembered that during this time they hadn't yet found the cure for cancer; that had come after the war when doctors were hard pressed to find a cure for the side effects of the radiation. A lot of "good" had come out of that destruction, even though it seemed to her to have been a useless waste of life over a dangerous power play. "Don't look so shocked dear," Jan smiled. "You must've heard of camps like ours before; we're hardly original. But," she sighed. "We're one of the most popular in this part of the country. We provide a safe environment for these kids for a week, and they have a blast!"

Gregg picked up for her; "Jan trained as an oncologist and I as an ER physician. We take on final year medical students for summer volunteers, so the kids are well cared for. We also have a full time nursing staff that comes in during the summer months. It's a big commitment, but it's been a joy to see these kids come alive during that week. And it's a treat for the parents as well; most of them have gotten so used to seeing their babies cooped up in dreary hospital rooms with wires and tubes coming out of them – to see them act like normal kids for a week – it's…" he stumbled to find the right word. "It's something that you can't put a value on."

Chakotay smiled as he let the moment settle. "Why did you start the camp?"

"It was Jan's idea," Gregg looked at his wife again, a serene smile planting itself on his lips. "You tell the story, honey."

"Well," she cradled her steaming mug in her hand. "Being an oncologist is hardly a happy field. I've been in it for a good 36 years. It was a specialty that I really believed in when I got started; I thought I'd be making a huge difference in people's lives. But I was a little self deluded…" She paused as she gesticulated animatedly. "More than that, I was a little idealistic. About 10 years into practice, I was getting fed up, wasn't I honey?"

Gregg nodded. "And that's when we started planning Camp Adventure."

"I was so tired of delivering bad news, of essentially ending people's lives with a diagnosis. So, I came up with a way to bring a little joy, a little good news and fun even if they weren't going to make it in the long run. Because seeing them like that – even if it's just for a short time… Well it makes all the difference in my line of work."

Kathryn felt tears coming; she'd never heard something so simultaneously happy and heartbreaking. "That's wonderful, Jan." Her voice was broken and gravelly. "How do you afford it all?"

"Different foundations, donations mostly. We get enough to pay for the nursing staff and the upkeep of the place. But it's a lot of work, and we keep getting older! The camp keeps growing in popularity and Gregg and I can hardly keep up…" She faltered, wondering how to phrase her next sentence. "That's what we wanted to talk to you two about."


	10. Chapter 10

She looked over to her husband, unsure of how to continue. "We need help here at the camp in these winter months-"

"We were talking last night," Gregg resumed. "And since you two have nowhere to go, well we thought that maybe you could help us out with the camp – with the paperwork, the applications –"

Kathryn thought on it, her mug still cradled warmly in her palms. Emotions aside, they had to be practical; Voyager may never find them – they might be stuck here in 2013 Indiana for the rest of their lives. For a moment she thought of the temporal prime directive: a stringent policy non-interference in other times and cultures. This alone moved her to object and automatically she raised her hand, "Jan, Gregg, we can't impose like that on you – on your kindness like that…"

"Kathryn," Jan soothed. "We don't know who you are, or where you've come from or why you can't get back there, but we want to help you somehow…"

Realistically, she was right: they were stranded – without anything, without anyone. Jan and Gregg were offering them shelter and a job and she had to take it. If she ever got back to Voyager, and the Alpha Quadrant after this was over, surely no one – not even Admirals Nechayev or Hayes – would quibble with them over doing their best to survive and make the best in the given circumstances.

She looked up from her coffee cup to Chakotay. His features were impassive, blank. But she knew he was thinking the same thing; this was their best shot and Jan and Gregg had already shown them so much kindness.

She cleared her throat to respond with the only words that seemed adequate. "Thank you."

Jan smiled warmly, "Well that's settled then! We can talk more about it after breakfast. Kathryn, would you mind helping me in the kitchen?"

Chakotay smiled at her lopsidedly from across the table as he met her gaze – it was no secret that Kathryn was useless in the kitchen. She couldn't even cook with a replicator, which wasn't even cooking – just the pressing of a few buttons. "I don't know how much help I'll be," she grinned wryly.

"Oh?" Jan sensed an inside joke between the two and looked to Chakotay for elucidation. She almost gasped, though, when she looked over at him; she hadn't truly appreciated in the darkness and upheaval of the night before what a handsome man he was. Yes, she though – the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. It seemed such a part of him, that's why she hadn't given them any thought before – the dark tattoo on his brow. But that wasn't what distracted her – no not that tattoo, and not those deep dimples or strong cheekbones. No, it was the way he looked at the woman across from him.

Jan loved Gregg- had for more than 40 years at this point. And he loved her – they'd had a wonderful life together, but Gregg never looked at her like that. It was deep, searing, and attentive. The connection between these two people was palpable, something of a living being – that much had been certain when she'd first found them on the road the other night.

"Chakotay," Gregg broke her musings. "I could use some help outside with the snow; we got another four inches overnight and I need to clear out the driveway."

"Sure," Chakotay nodded. "Anything I can do to help."

"Great."

The men walked together to the foyer as Kathryn and Jan moved around the kitchen. "I don't know, Jan," he heard Kathryn's rich laugh. "I can burn water!"

"What size shoe are you, son?" Greg turned his back, rummaging in the coat closet. "I think we had a volunteer one summer – left a pair of boots. He was about your height."

Chakotay looked down, foolishly unsure of his size. He had depended on replicators programmed with his exact specifications for so long that he'd lost track of exact measurements.

"Here," he held up a pair of work boots. "These here look to be about a 12. Should fit."

He slid them on; a little roomy, but otherwise comfortable – more so than his usual leather boots. "Thanks," he said, adjusting to the novelty as Gregg handed him his coat.

"I've got a snow blower that I use for the longer driveway. But it's too big to do the lot in front of the house where we park the cars." Chakotay donned a borrowed hat and a scarf before the bitter cold sting of the morning air hit, almost burning his lungs with the intensity.

They descended the icy steps and walked towards the garage. "Are you alright to shovel the driveway?"

He shook his head, unsure of what he was asking. "Shovel?" He'd never heard the term before, wasn't sure of what it looked like.

Gregg's face lit up in a smile, "You really aren't from around here are you?" Strange man, he mused. Very strange.

He returned the grin sheepishly with a pull on his earlobe; "No sir."

"Well this here's a shovel," He picked up the foreign object. "And what you do is just move the snow out of the driveway – around the cars, off to the side like this," he demonstrated a few times. "Alright?"

"Looks simple enough," Chakotay smiled reaching for the device.

Gregg chuckled again, "You say that now; I'll come and check on ye after I'm done with the drive way!"

/

"So Kathryn where are you from?" Jan looked up from the eggs she was whisking as Kathryn sipped her coffee.

"Indiana," her answer was automatic, before she had a chance to think through the repercussions.

"Oh you're from around here?"

Kathryn didn't know where they were. "Here?"

"Arcadia."

Arcadia. Aunt Martha lived in Arcadia… 300 years in the future, mind you. "No, Bloomington – just outside the city."

"Lovely," Jan replied as she resumed her vigorous whisking. "Do you get home often?"

She looked down, thinking of the last time she'd been home. The last time she'd seen her mother and Phoebe was when she'd said goodbye. She'd been so young back then – so bright-eyed, almost naive. Looking back on that Kathryn, she realized that she didn't recognize herself. That sudden realization made her heart sink down to the pit of her stomach. "No," whispered shaking her head. "Haven't been back home in a while now."

"Are you alright dear?"

She'd let her guard down, her face shone with sadness and regret. Looking back up at Jan, her Captain's mask slid back into place. "Fine. Just fine."

Jan knew it wasn't, but decided not to pursue it. "Would you mind whisking for me dear? My arthritis is kicking up and I'd better give it a rest before I overdo it and end up in pain for the rest of the afternoon!"

The repetitive movement of the whisk was soothing – the ache in her wrist from the vigorous movement somewhat of a welcome distraction. She yearned to talk to Chakotay – to discuss everything that was happening with them. She thought of Voyager, of the anxiety the crew would be feeling. She knew they'd be looking for them, but eventually, after a time, they'd give up and resume course for the Alpha Quadrant. Tuvok would get them home, she was sure of it. But she couldn't ignore the pit in her stomach – the longing that she felt for her beloved ship.

/

He'd underestimated the simplicity of the work; Gregg had made it look so easy. He was sweating now, in spite of the chilly air. He knew the clothing underneath the coat would be damp with perspiration. But it was soothing and gratifying. The strain in his muscles was a good distraction for the anger, despair, and uselessness that he felt. He thought of the ship and the crew – he could picture in his mind's eye all the confusion that would be felt – the sense of loss.

Kathryn was right – Voyager didn't have the technology to find them. How they even got here was still a mystery. The crew would search for a few days. Seven would work tirelessly in astrometrics with B'Elanna running scan after scan. But eventually they would be given up for lost. There would be a memorial service, maybe tears would be shed, but they'd all eventually get on with the mission – on with their lives.

"Wow! Chakotay this is amazing!" Gregg walked towards him over the newly shoveled driveway. "I can't tell you how grateful Jan and I'll be in the morning for this. In the past year or so shoveling has become treacherous nature for me. All part of getting old, I guess." He surveyed the work that he'd done in clearing the driveway over the last hour. It was a simple task – nothing that required an iota of mental input, but it had been gratifying to see his hands produce something tangible.

On New Earth he'd built things for their home – a headboard for Kathryn, a tub. He'd made paintings and small carvings as well and before their rescue, he was planning a boat. But ever since Voyager returned for them, and the frenzied pace that ruled their lives aboard the ship resumed, he'd found little time to work with his hands - to built, to paint, to produce. He missed it.

"Are you hungry?" Gregg smiled, his breath billowing out in front of him as he spoke.

"Yes," he put his hand on his stomach. "I could always eat."

Gregg laughed heartily, "Good man."


	11. Chapter 11

"Well, Kathryn, I'm impressed – you cooked us a quiche! And you said you couldn't cook!"

"You cooked a quiche?" Chakotay stepped into the kitchen and it took every muscle in Kathryn's body to stay upright. He was wet, dripping with sweat. His shirt damp, plastered to his body. She'd only ever seen glimpses of him before – small snap shots every now and then on New Earth.

They'd both gained weight in the last year. Call it resignation, but maybe they'd finally gotten used to Neelix's leola root creations, or their taste buds had dulled. His body now was different, yes – more yielding, but still a man's body. She could see the lines of his muscles where the T-shirt clung to him. More than that, she could smell him: the heady aroma of his sweat and how it amplified his natural spicy odour.

It was erotic, sensual. "Well," she fumbled, blushing and averting her gaze; I only mixed the eggs and the cut the vegetables." She laughed, "Jan handled the oven."

"Oh," he laughed, dimples on full display. "So you didn't have a chance to char it?"

Jan grinned at the two of them, "Stop it, you two. Kathryn you did a wonderful job, we'll make a chef out of you yet! A you," she pointed at Chakotay. "Shower; you're a bit ripe from all that work!"

He bowed his head, "yes, ma'am!"

/

"Kathryn," Chakotay looked across the table at her, smiling as he tucked into his quiche. "You've outdone yourself. I take back everything I've ever thought about your cooking."

She laughed, "I knew you always lied about my dinners!"

He shook his head, bashfully averting his eyes from her as he took another bite of his breakfast.

"So, you two," Gregg grinned at them from across the table. "I know this is a little soon, but we do need some help. I was on the computer this morning; we've got over two thousand applications to review in the next couple of months before more start rolling in. Some of them are from families, foundations, and hospitals and the rest from medical students and nursing students who want to volunteer."

Jan picked up where he left off. "We don't know how long you'll be staying with us – but we're sure you don't want to have to stay cramped in the house with us stodgy old folks!"

Kathryn moved to object – to tell them that she didn't mind where they were. But Jan's next proposal quieted her. "If it's alright with you, we were going to give you the head counselor's cabin. During the summer, we usually have another physician who stays part time. It's small – one bedroom, a small kitchen and sitting area. But, it's the best we can do to give you two some space." She fumbled a bit more. "I know you're not married-"

"It's fine," Kathryn soothed. "Thank you, Jan. We don't mind sharing."

She looked to Chakotay again, for his approval; he simply nodded in acquiescence and continued eating.


	12. Chapter 12

"Do you think the snow could be any deeper?" Jan laughed rhetorically as she looked back at her husband as they trudged through the fluffy white snow on their way down the makeshift valley into the camp proper.

He laughed as he grabbed her waist and they shared what looked to be a private conversation interspersed with laughter and gentle banter.

"So," he lagged behind them, staying close to her. "How does it feel to be back in Indiana?"

She looked down at the snow at her feet. At this height it came all the way up to her knees. It was an odd sensation, she thought, to be back here – to be walking on Indiana soil again. To be truthful, she hadn't really thought about it all too much in the last twenty-four hours since she woke. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "It's a bit of a shock, really. All of it. Being here, out of time – I keep thinking that the whole thing is going to disappear into a hologrid; that this is just some elaborate joke…"

"I know the feeling, but," He looked to the couple in front of him. "All things considered, I think we got lucky…"

"I know," She whispered.

"It's almost too good to be true. And to think…" She stopped – the thought of what was coming was almost too much to bear; to think they'd be gone in two years; all of them would be gone. This whole area was wiped out in the Third World War; almost nothing was left.

He nodded solemnly, sharing her thoughts. "I know."

"This is it!" Jan pointed to a small building, raised on an above ground foundation. The two stragglers caught up as she ascended the small staircase. "Like I said, it's not much, but there's heat, and a bed, tables, and a small kitchen."

The cabin was just as small inside as it looked from the outside. It was comprised of essentially one large room, with the bedroom and a small bathroom somewhat separated. Windows littered the main sitting area, giving an ample view of the camp and the lake, which looked to be completely frozen at this point.

"We've packed you some food stuffs for the kitchen," Jan held up two bags. "And another one full of some clothes. When the storm is over we'll go into town and get you two some proper things to wear-"

"Jan," Kathryn looked away, blushing at their kindness. "Thank you, this is already too much."

"Nonsense," the older woman smiled. "Now, why don't you two get settled and we'll see you for dinner in a few hours, alright?"

"You two be good," Gregg laughed as he opened the side door to the little cabin. "There's the controls for the heat on the wall over here. The temperature is pre-set, but you can turn it up or down if you like. All the essentials should be here – but holler if here's anything else you need."

"Thank you," Chakotay walked forward to thank the older gentleman. "We, don't…" he looked down, unsure in a sea of emotion how to portray his gratitude.

"It's alright, Chakotay. We grateful for the help. You two take care and we'll see you a little later for dinner." And with the close of the thick creaky wooden door, the cabin descended into silence.


	13. Chapter 13

The sitting room was made up of three comfortable chairs that were angled to look out over the water and the camp, most of which was obscured by the snow. Behind them was a small wooden table with two chairs and off to the side, a kitchen with a stove, a refrigerator, and a microwave.

The room itself was still cold as Kathryn pulled the coat closer to her. She was childishly reluctant to face him, even though only an hour ago she wanted nothing more than to be alone with him – to share her thoughts. So she stayed facing the window as she nestled into one of the chairs, a loud sigh escaping her before she could quell it.

"What are you thinking, Kathryn?" He'd wanted to talk to her, to be alone with her since this morning. He yearned to know what she was feeling – to hear her say the words rather than him just imagining them. Her closeness, her presence was like a balm to soothe his anxiety.

She turned sheepishly to face him, "About everything: Voyager, how we got here. This doesn't feel real."

She was right: it didn't. "No," he rubbed his face. "It feels like we're in a dream."

"Do you think they've given up yet?"

"No." He shook his head. "Not yet – we've barely been gone 24 hours." Had it really only been that long? It felt like an age had past since he'd crawled out of the shuttle with her in his arms. A shudder coursed through him when he thought of seeing her like that – he was terrified.

She noticed the change on his face. "What?"

"Nothing," he faked a grin. It wasn't appropriate to tell her things like that. He'd learned over the years not to share his fears with her where she was concerned. He'd begin, but then he'd see it – how uncomfortable she'd become and he'd immediately change the subject.

He remembered back a couple years ago when they'd been in a similar shuttle crash; when Kathryn had the encounter with the alien who she said had impersonated her father. That night, they'd taken a sail on the holodeck to celebrate – what was it? Oh yes, to celebrate Kathryn's cheating death. He almost laughed – if they celebrated every event like that, Neelix would be in perpetual party-mode; it was no secret that Kathryn was reckless with her life.

But he'd been terrified back then and that terror rose every time she was in danger. He wondered if every away mission would be her last – if every time he saw her leave the bridge in his hands, it would be the last time he saw her alive.

She saw the emotions play out over his face as she watched him in the silence of the cabin. The air was growing warmer and her coat a little too hot as she removed it. "No, you're probably right. I can see B'Elanna and Seven in my mind's eye running every scan known to man while they try not to kill each other in astrometrics!" She laughed to cover the hurt she felt for her beloved crew.

"It's alright, Kathryn," He looked at her warmly as he removed his own coat. "You don't have to pretend, not here and not with me."

Her face fell, the forced smile disappearing. "I'm terrified, Chakotay. We don't belong here."

"I know," He laughed at the absurdity. "Gregg looked at me like I was half crazy when I didn't know what a shovel was!"

"A shovel?" A crooked smile cocked up on one side of her face. "What is a shovel?"

He laughed again, "I'll show you later. I have a feeling it's a device we're going to become well acquainted with." He sighed, looking out over the lake: "Is this what it was like growing up in Indiana?"

She shook her head. "I remember winter being long and snowy – but never like this. The weather grid controlled most of it so we never got too much."

"I'd never seen snow before I walked out of the shuttle."

"That's right," she half grinned. "I almost forgot that! So, what do you think?"

He shook his head, dimples coming out to play as he looked straight at her. "Cold." He huffed. "But it's beautiful, like nothing I've ever seen. Of course, I knew what it would be like – I remember you showing me holophotos of your home. But the experience," he stopped, unsure if he was going to commit the end of his sentence to spoken words.

He wanted to tell her that without having her to share it with, it wasn't complete. But it wasn't the time – and as far as Kathryn was concerned, it was never the time. Whenever he started down this path, she'd brush him off and change the subject.

In true Kathryn form, she changed the subject. "Shall we have a look around?"


	14. Chapter 14

"So how are you two finding the cabin?" Jan scooped a serving of lasagna onto her own plate before she sat down to eat.

"It's wonderful, Jan," Kathryn smiled. "Thank you, and dinner is delicious."

"I'm glad you like it; when Gregg and I first got married, I didn't know how to use a toaster – but I couldn't let the old man starve," She laughed as she caught her husband's eye. "So we learned together, and I had a good amount of help from the people that we were living with at the time."

"Chakotay," Gregg cleared his throat with a sip of water. I've been meaning to ask you about that tattoo; it's quite an unusual place for one."

"Yes," Jan added. "Does it mean something?"

"Yes," he cleared his throat. "It's a family symbol. I got the mark to honour my father."

"What happened to your father?" Gregg asked solemnly, hearing the sadness in Chakotay's voice.

"He, uh… He died a while ago," He wanted to change the subject. "Long time ago. Long story."

"What about your parents, Kathryn?" Jan asked quietly. "Do they still live in Indiana?"

"My father died when I was a girl. My mother," she choked. "My mother is dead as well."

"Well do you have any siblings?"

"No," She lied, hiding her emotion – expertly keeping her features neutral. "Just me."

"I'm so sorry," Jan sighed. "For the both of you."

"We never had children," She sighed, glancing at Gregg from the corner of her eyes. "We always wanted to, but something always came in the way. We didn't get out of school until our late twenties and then we spent most of our thirties advancing our careers. And then before we knew it we were in our fifties."

The older man sensed her sadness and took her hand. "But you know what honey?" he smiled. "It's alright because we have thousands of kids, as far as I'm concerned. Every summer."

Her hand covered his and she nodded. "And I wouldn't trade that for a thing."

/

"Are you two all set for the evening? Do you need anything else?"

He didn't look at Kathryn when he went to respond. "Could we have a few more blankets for the bed?"

Jan nodded, "Of course, let me get them for you."

He kept his glance away from her as she put her boots back on and stood by the door. "Here you go, let me know if you two need anything else, alright?"

"Thank you," was becoming Kathryn's mantra. "Goodnight."

/

They kept their arrangement from the night before; him on top of the covers and her under. He tried to stay as far away from her as he could so as not to intrude on her space. If he was honest, he was overcompensating just a bit – hugging the border of the bed, almost falling off of it.

The room was cold, the widows in the bedroom thin. She shivered, unable to fall asleep. Her mind couldn't quiet – she thought of her ship, she thought of her crew. She could see them all – how distraught and confused they would be. Her mind was going in circles as she stared out the window at the Indiana moon. "They can't find us," she said rhetorically into the darkness.

"You don't know that," He tried to comfort her, but it was useless – she was right.

She turned on her other side, holding the comforter around her to face his back. "Chakotay?"

"Mmm," He didn't turn, his voice reverberating off the wall in front of him.

"Chakotay." She repeated, her voice softer this time.

"Yes, Kathryn?"

"Will you look at me?"

The bed shifted as he turned himself around, facing her, looking at her scared, vulnerable features in the silver light of the moon. He rarely saw her like this; she was the captain and her mask was always firmly rooted into place. Vulnerability in this woman wasn't something he saw often. Usually she'd hide her fear with sternness and anger. He remembered the void – her depression there. He knew she was exposed, and rather than letting anyone see it, she replaced it with vitriol, even towards him.

He was still angry with her. That she knew. His anger had started a long way back, brewing underneath his calm exterior. She thought back to the man she'd first encountered in the Delta Quadrant all those years ago. He'd been angry – palpably so. She could feel it; it radiated off of him when he'd first materialized on her bridge. He'd wanted to pounce on Tom Paris – snap his neck. And she had no doubt that he would have if she hadn't stepped in. But he'd changed since then, becoming more and more docile as the years went on. It was like he was burrowing himself into a shell and as the years passed he'd inch closer and closer away from the light.

"You don't even want to look at me anymore, Chakotay. What's happened to us?"


	15. Chapter 15

"It's nothing, Kathryn. Let's just go to sleep." He began to turn back around but her hand stopped him.

"It's not nothing. You're my best friend and now you don't even want to look at me, to talk to me. Why?"

"I think you know why." He stared at her, straight on.

"Remind me."

"It's late, Kathryn." He didn't want to get into this, not when they were both so raw. They'd only been lost for 30 hours at this point. If by some miracle the ship did find them and rescued them, and he had barred his soul, only to have her turn away and brush him off for the hundredth time – it wasn't worth it. It was bad enough loving a woman who would never love him back, but to be turned away and pitied by her because of that… There were things that weren't worth fighting for after a certain point.

She nodded, tears threatening for form behind her eyes. "Goodnight, Chakotay." And with that they both turned again, facing respective walls as silent tears trod down both their cheek before a restless sleep swooped down to claim them.

/

Before the sun came up a loud knock sounded at the door. "Kathryn! Chakotay?" Jan's cheery voice called out. "Are you up?"

The two sleepers woke easily, their rest incomplete. The room was frigid as they hopped out of bed to answer the door.

"Jan!" Kathryn yawned. "Good morning."

"I'm sorry to wake you two, but Gregg and I are off to work today. I brought the computer and all the applications that we've received." Her shoulder was weighed down by what looked to be two heavy canvass bags. "I don't want to appear a taskmaster, but Gregg and I were wondering if you wouldn't mind starting to read through and sort the applications today?"

Kathryn opened the small door to let the older woman in out of the cold. "Of course, no problem. What would you have us do?"

"Well," she crossed the small room and laid the bags and the computer on the table. "I know it sounds rather like Sophie's Choice, but we need them sorted into 'treatment, remission, or terminal'. We run separate camps for each group. Usually those details will be in the doctor's notes. Don't be surprised if you need a box of Kleenexes – Gregg and I go through hundreds of them this time of year."

"I wouldn't be surprised it that takes you most of the day. We'll be home by three thirty, hopefully, and we'll see how far you got, alright?"

Kathryn nodded her head, still unsure of what she was doing but confident that she could figure out such an easy task. "Alright."

Jan moved to leave but turned back as she got one foot out the door, "And Kathryn, I thought we might go shopping this afternoon for a few essentials. Is that alright with you?"

Kathryn nodded dumbly. "That's fine, Jan. Thank you."

"Alright," she continued warmly. "We'll see you this afternoon!"


	16. Chapter 16

"Do you think they have any coffee?" She padded around the small galley, one of Jan's old sweaters held tight around her small body as Chakotay turned up the heat.

"I think that's what that device is for," He pointed to a black coffee maker sitting on the counter next to the small stove.

"What's this?" She pointed skeptically. "How does it work?"

"Well first," He brushed against her in the cramped space. "We have to find the coffee beans." There weren't that many cabinets, so the search was brief. "Here we are – coffee grounds."

"Those I've heard of," She chuckled. "Now what?"

"Well now," he was still standing close. The heat rolled off of his body in waves. She hadn't noticed it in bed; he was too far from her. She looked down at his hands as they moved deftly over the foreign device. This was the closest they'd been in a while. She kept his distance from him, barely allowing herself to sit next to him on the sofa. Oh she touched him on occasion, selfishly to quell the urge.

She'd have been lying flagrantly if she denied wanting to touch him all the time – more than a few brushes against his shoulder or an occasional hand on his chest. God how she ached sometimes she wanted him so badly!

She'd wanted him since she saw him – since his handsome face illuminated her view screen. No it hadn't been a conscious thought back then, just something of an urge if you could call it that. Rather it was something terrifying magnetic that settled in her stomach.

It got easier over the years, but it never dulled. New Earth had been some sort of exquisite kind of torture. They'd only known one another for a year and a half at that point – things were still new. But they were sweet, innocent. She didn't doubt she would have offered herself to him in due time – that she would have gone to him in the dead of night. She pictured it so many times in her fantasies. It was the make-believe she had from their first week on New Earth. She wasn't supposed to feel those things back then; she was supposed to be in love with Mark – faithful to him and his memory, eager to get back to him. But that wasn't the reality. The reality was that she wanted Chakotay, over her, under her, inside of her. She wanted to make love to him, to hear him whisper words of love to her while she worshiped his body – the body that held such a beautifully intricate, kind, warm soul.

"Kathryn?"

"Hmm?" She shook her head, rousing herself from her musings. "What?"

"Are you listening? I said you just put in a coffee filter," he pointed to the brown piece of paper that sat in the conical head portion of the foreign device. "And then you scoop in some coffee, add water to this back part, close the lid, and press this button." And then coffee machine came to life, sputtering a little at first as she watched with rapt attention.

"Good grief!" She smiled; "This takes more input than changing a sensor relay! How did you know how to do that?"

He chuckled, "The traditionalists on Dorvan, maybe. I don't remember."

"Well…" She smiled as the warm aroma of coffee began to fill the room, followed by the drip of the brown ambrosia into the clear glass pot below. "Jan brought over the applications, and a computer. We'll have to figure that out and start sorting the applications. There look to be a good few."

"Mmm," He looked towards the table before he rummaged in the pantry, hungry, finding a variety of foodstuffs that he was yet unfamiliar with. "What's this?" He held up a yellow tub reading 'Bisquick'.

"I have no idea," She looked a little closer. "Pancake mix," She read out. "How do you make it?"

He turned the carton over, "Add milk and eggs, stir, and cook on a hot griddle or pan. Sounds easy enough. Do we have milk and eggs?"

"I'm not sure," She brushed past the solidity of him again to the fridge. "Looks like Jan thought of everything." She smiled as she pulled out a carton reading milk, and a few eggs from the door."

"Shall we give it a go?" He smiled.

"Well," she huffed, shrugging her shoulders with a grin. "We are explorers!"


	17. Chapter 17

"You know," she drawled, sitting in front of the sleek laptop. "I've always had these blasé notions that past technology was so much more inferior to our own. But this technology is quite advanced! The processors, the displays… – it's almost on par with something I'd have in my home back…" She stopped. In her home back on Earth? She was on Earth…

"I know," he, looked back over his shoulder as he kept one eye one the griddle. "I was even surprised back in 1996 – at Chronowerx…" He caught himself. "Well, that technology was stolen from the future…"

"But look what it produced! This is absolutely fascinating. It makes you wonder what else was lost in the Third World War." The mention of the event settled a familiar pit in her stomach. Two years, she thought. Just two years from now. Suddenly another thought occurred to her; she was surprised that she hadn't thought of it by now. "What about the shuttle?"

He sighed, remembering that small piece of anxiety. "In the forest, hidden behind rocks. But," He turned around to her fully as he switched off the stove. "We have to get rid of it. It won't stay this cold or snowy forever and someone is going to find it."

She looked away and nodded. "Are you sure all the systems are shot? Would there be any power to send out a distress beacon?" Her question was in vain; of course there wouldn't be.

"It looked like the core was fused in the crash; that's the only explanation that I can give. I tried everything, but nothing was working – even life support, which is usually the last system to fail, no matter how extensive the damage."

She nodded solemnly. "We have to destroy it."

He simply shut his eyes for a moment in acquiescence before bringing her the plate of pancakes. "I also found these in the fridge," he retrieved a stick of butter and a half-full bottle of maple syrup.

She smiled amid the moment, "The only true accompaniments to a plate of fresh, warm pancakes."

He sat down and tucked into his own plate. "Not bad."

A half smile and a sigh escaped at the first bite. "Mmm, I almost forgot what non-replicator pancakes tasted like! Well done, Chakotay. Thank you."

"Well now I can't say I actually did anything but stir a few ingredients together. But," he chuckled as he took another bite. "I'll take credit where credit is due."

She laughed before she looked at the stacks of papers in the bags on the floor. "It's a little daunting," he sighed, voicing her thought. "But we'll figure it out."

Yes. She nodded silently – they'd figure it out. Together.

/

"Hodgkins lymphoma? Acute Myelogenous Leukaemia? Osteogenic Sarcoma? Chakotay I've never heard of any of these before!"

He shook his head, taking another sip of coffee. "I know. And they're all children. Not that that's not what we were expecting, but to see evidence of such illness and suffering at such a young age – it's not right."

"Their medications are palliative at best. Curative only in the best of circumstances – not that I'm any physician, but I still can't believe it."

For a moment she thought of the dichotomy of what she was saying; children still died in her time. That had been proved not a few weeks ago. They had found a lone Borg cube – the only survivors on board a few children. She smiled when she thought of how far those four children come since then, but her mild elation was only temporary; they'd lost two of them: a young man, and a precious little baby girl.

"What are you thinking about, Kathryn?" The unexpected touch of his hand on her cheek jolted her and she reflexively pulled back, only to realize that she was crying.

He should have known she would pull back; she was conditioned to – she was hardened to eschew love and comfort because that's what made her the captain. That's what set her apart from all the rest of them. "You're not the captain here, Kathryn." He said it before he had a chance to think not to.

"What are you getting at, Chakotay?" Annoyance again reared its head – didn't he know she knew that? She got up quickly, the chair falling in her haste. "I'm well aware of the fact that I'm no longer the captain. For God's sake, I'm no one here! There's no record of us – we have nothing! This was supposed to be a routine mission!" Tears came at a faster rate. "This wasn't supposed to happen! None of it! Goddammit Chakotay!"

"I know, Kathryn." He whispered. "I know."

Dejected she collapsed into one of the large soft chairs by the window. "Isn't there a limit?" She huffed.

"A limit?" He asked, coming round to her, kneeling by the chair as she sobbed – a sight he'd never seen before in almost seven years of knowing her. His arms ached to take her in them – to hold her, to promise her that it would be all right. But he wouldn't – couldn't.

"To how much suffering one person can bear? Isn't there a limit?"

He hung his head. "I'm sorry, Kathryn. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault, and I'm sorry."

"No," she lifted his gaze to meet hers, tears wetting the corner of his eyes. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." And she was. This was becoming a pattern. She couldn't kiss him, or make love to him, so she yelled at him. He became her scapegoat and she was hurting him – had already hurt him so deeply. That she knew for sure.

"How did we get like this?" she repeated her question from the night before after the silence.

He shook his head, still unwilling to tread down this path. "Kathryn…"

She wiped her face quickly and smoothed her hair when she heard a noise from outside. "Kathryn? Chakotay?" A knock came at the door.

Was it already late afternoon?

"Yes, Jan!" She ran to the door, her mask back in place with a smile plastered on her features.

"How was your day?" The older woman smiled.

"Fine," Kathryn demurred with a feigned air of serenity. "Just fine."

"Wonderful. Now Gregg was wondering if Chakotay could help him with something out in the barn. And I'll take you to Target to get a few things for the cabin and for the both of you. Would that be alright?"

Chakotay came into view. "Good afternoon, Jan. You said Gregg needed help in the barn?"

"Hello dear," She greeted him warmly. "Yes, he's been having trouble fixing things in the last year because of his arthritis. Would that be alright?"

"Sure," He smiled.

"Unless you want to come shopping with us?"

He thought on it for a moment; he and Kathryn needed time apart, before they killed one another. "No," he shook his head, grinning. "Not much of a shopper."

"You men!" Jan laughed. "You all think shopping is some sort of death sentence! Well that's fine. Kathryn and I will be just dandy. By the way," She stopped Chakotay as he walked past her, bundled to the head with scarves and coats as he began the short walk up to the house. "What size are you, dear?"

"I, uh-"

"Chakotay!" Gregg called from the house, waving from the top of the hill with a big grin on his face.

"That's just fine, Chakotay," She smiled. "Kathryn and I will take a guess. Off you go."

Jan watched him go. "Men," She laughed and shook her head. "Ready to go shopping, dear?"


	18. Chapter 18

She looked on in awe; she'd never seen anything like this… what had Jan called it? Target? Confessedly, Kathryn had never been that much of a shopper. She'd rarely needed anything that would require going to a store; even the concept was so passé in the 24th century. Replicators provided most of the essentials for daily living. Shops were only for specialty items, of which Kathryn never needed any. She'd never really needed a formal dress – before she left she hadn't even picked out her wedding gown. Formal events only necessitated her dress uniform, nothing more. So this was a wholly new experience for her.

"So, dear. What do you usually wear?"

"Uh," her uniform. On rare occasion a period costume on the holodeck, and to events a dress that Phoebe had bought for her. Once or twice a nice pant set that her mother gave her. "Pants usually."

Jan was perceptive. "You don't get out of that uniform very much, do you?"

She smiled. "No, not really."

"Ah well, we'll find you two some things to wear." She walked into the women's section. "Here, the essentials: sweaters, t shirts, bras, underwear, socks, and jeans."

Her mind was on sensory overload as Jan helped her choose a few items. Next was the men's section. Kathryn had no idea what size Chakotay wore. He was a large man – muscular and built. "I don't know what size Chakotay wears," she said abashedly.

"Well we'll just guess. I'd say maybe a size 38 in pants. We'll get a 40 too just in case, and a size large in shirts and sweaters. Why don't you pick out something he'd like, Kathryn, and I'll look for some jeans? Oh and don't forget underwear!"

Kathryn blushed. How was she supposed to know that or even guess? Well, she amended – she could guess; her imagination over the years had become quite extensive. A blush crawled up her cheeks at the thought and a familiar ache settled in her groin.

Jan wasn't naïve by any means and she was having a little too much fun with this. She was no neophyte; she was aware that there was something between those two. She just had to figure out what it was and gently push it along. She would never ask Kathryn straight on. No, not yet. Kathryn wouldn't tell her anyway; she got the sense that she was an extremely private person.

Kathryn returned to the cart with a couple of shirts, a sweater and a couple of packs of underwear. She had no idea there were so many varieties of men's undergarments to choose from. And she had no idea what kind he wore! She couldn't even remember what Mark had worn, if that gave any indication of how exciting her sex life had been before it completely stagnated in the Delta Quadrant.

"All set?" Jan smiled. "Now food."

"Jan," Kathryn suddenly felt so uncomfortable with being given so much charity. "We just can't accept all of this; you've done so much for us already-"

"Nonsense, Kathryn," Jan rubbed her arm soothingly. "Consider it payment for the work you're doing. If you stay on, we'll compensate you for your work at the camp. Please, we want to help you."

She smiled solemnly and looked away. "Thank you."

"It's alright dear. Now, what do you and Chakotay like to eat?"

/

He wasn't ashamed to say that he missed her. He kept glancing at the clock on the wall; she'd been gone for four hours now. They hadn't been separated since the crash. Truth be told, they were almost never not in the same place for the last seven years.

He almost felt foolish missing her. It almost made him angry that he missed her; that he didn't feel complete without her. "Chakotay?" Gregg broke his reverie. "You keep staring at that clock. You have somewhere to be?" He laughed.

"No," He smiled at the joke. "Just-"

"You're thinking about her aren't you?"

He couldn't lie. "Yes."

"What's the story between you two?" They had spoken of nothings for the past hour and a half in the barn. A few light bulbs needed replacing. And a patch needed to be mended in the barn wall where the wood had rotted out. Both jobs hadn't taken too long, but Chakotay could see why Gregg needed the help. Plans were made to repair a few other spots when the weather got warmer.

He remained quiet for a moment to contemplate his answer, for surely the whole truth would be winded. "It's complicated," he demurred ambiguously.

Gregg wasn't buying it. "But you're in love with her?"

"Yes," he answered automatically. He met the older man's gaze. "Yes, I'm in love with Kathryn." It felt good to say the words out loud, to confess to someone. It was a truth he'd held in his heart for so long. "Am I that obvious?"

"It's obvious that you care about her," Gregg sat on the large leather couch and motioned for Chakotay to follow suit. "Does she love you back?"

"I don't know. Things are complicated. So much has stood between us for so long, that to work through it all…"

He heard the sound of the truck in the driveway. They were back. "Women are back," Gregg smiled at him and winked as he got up from his seat and Chakotay did the same. "Listen, Chakotay I don't know you well, nor do I know Kathryn. But you two… there's something there-" Before he could finish his thought, two snow logged women bubbled through the door with what must have been a dozen or so large red and white patterned bags on their arms.

"Gregg, Chakotay? Would you mind helping us get all this back to the cabin?" Jan called out from the foyer.

"Goodness gracious, Woman!" Gregg laughed. "You are one helluva shopper!"

She smiled, putting the bags down and reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. "Good thing, otherwise it would never get done!"

"Chakotay, Kathryn, you two are on your own for dinner tonight. We have a meeting at the hospital at six, so we'd better be going soon!"

Chakotay looked at Kathryn standing uncomfortably in the foyer with the bags and bags of shopping weighing down her arms. "Hi," he whispered as he put on his coat and boots before stooping to retrieve the parcels that Jan had dropped. "Is this all for us?"

"Yes," She steeled herself, still ashamed at the magnanimity of it all. "Jan insisted."

"Kathryn, Chakotay!" Jan called from the hall before rushing into the foyer. "Will you be alright to get that back to the cabin? I'm afraid I wasn't keeping track of time and now Gregg and I have to leave; we have to get to a hospital that's a little father away." She groaned as she continued. "Every couple of weeks we do patient reviews for the benefit of the medical students. They're interesting, but it takes us so long to get to this other hospital! We're the ones running it tonight so we've go to go!"

"Say no more, Jan," Kathryn and Chakotay were halfway out the door. "And thank you again," He added before the door shut, leaving them to traipse through the melting snow back to their new home.


	19. Chapter 19

"My arms are going to fall off!" She jested as they trod into the small cabin and dumped the shopping in the bedroom.  
"I don't think I've ever seen this much stuff before! What did you get?"

"Loads," she huffed as she rummaged in the bags. "Your things are in here somewhere amid the food, pans, towels…."

"Are these for me?" He laughed as he held up a pair of black lace lingerie.

Her face went scarlet. "Chakotay give those back!"

"Not really my size, Kathryn," he laughed as he held them above her head, out of her reach. "But I do appreciate the thought."

"Chako-tay!" her blush showed no signs of disappearing. "Give them back, you rascal!"

After a few more seconds of teasing, he relented, handing them to her and relishing the flirtation. More than that, he enjoyed seeing something so personal of hers; seeing this side of her was still so rare and he didn't mind admitting that he wanted to push the boundaries a little just to see how much she would give.

"Where are mine?"

The smile stayed plastered to her face; he still wanted to flirt with her. It was something she missed. God, she sighed – it had been years since they properly flirted like they did in the in the early days, when things were still new and fresh. "They should be in one of the bags, keep looking."

He found the bag with a pair of jeans in them. "Those are yours," she said. "I hope they fit. I didn't know your size. Jan guessed a 38 or a 40, but I have no idea what those numbers mean."

"Neither do I, but thank you," he said. "It'll be good to get out of Gregg's sweat pants."

"And there are some larger sweatpants and sleep bottoms in there. And some shirts," she rummaged, finding them all. "And, uh, your underwear," she cleared her throat and tried to tamp down the blush that she felt rising up again. "I hope-"

"They'll be fine. Thank you Kathryn." He whispered. "I appreciate it."

"You wouldn't believe the store, Chakotay. It was like no place that I'd ever been!"

"Really?" He moved the bags to sit on the bed facing her as she unloaded the rest of the items. "Tell me about it."

"Massive, is the only word that describes it." She stopped her rummaging to look at him, excitement dancing around her smoky blue eyes. "I'd never seen so many things in one place before in my life. There was everything from clothes to food to housewares and electronics! It blew my mind!"

"Really?" He laughed, imagining it. "You'll have to take me sometime."

"If we stay," She faltered. "If we stay, I'm sure I'll take you there."

"If Voyager doesn't find us?" He asked, keeping her gaze.

She dropped her shoulders, the smile disappearing from her face. "They won't find us. They can't find us. I keeping thinking this is a joke from Q, or some sort of payback from Braxton…" She took a deep breath to tell him something that she'd never mentioned; that had been kept out of ships logs and all personal conversation. "A year ago I disappeared from the ship for a few hours with Seven of Nine. We were taken aboard a Timeship called Relativity and we were sent back from the future to just before the ship left for the Badlands – when she was in dry dock at Utopia Planetia. The Relativity was like nothing I'd ever seen before – of course they were centuries ahead of us! We were sent back to stop the destruction of the ship; Braxton had planted a bomb on Voyager that would have detonated in our time, killing us all."

"Why didn't you tell me about this then?" His tone was subdued, but underneath the surface a familiar rage rumbled. This wasn't the first time she'd kept things from him. In fact, subversiveness had become commonplace for her.

"I couldn't."

"Bullshit, Kathryn!" He got up and started pacing the tiny space around the bed. "This isn't the first time you've kept things from me. Dammit sometimes I feel like I'm just your token Maquis – something to hang on your wall to make you feel good about yourself!"

"Chakotay-" she plead.

"No! Kathryn, it's true. You never listen to me; you haven't for years now! And I just sit there and take it! You manipulate me, you use me and I just goddamn take it! When you don't want my opinion you remove me from duty. When you do take my advice, you almost have to be bullied into it under some sort of threat!" He remembered her assimilation, her almost self-sacrifice in the Void, her subversion with Kashyk and a myriad of other times.

She had no proper defense; he was right and she knew it. She knew herself that she was a master manipulator. When she wanted things to go her way, she'd lie to him – small lies of omission and hoped he never realize it. But he wasn't stupid, and he did.

"I'm sorry," her voice quivered; she was breaking – so far removed from herself and who she was not three days ago. So much had happened in the last few days, she'd gone from being captain of a Starship, to being no one – a woman who was completely feckless and cut off from the only life she'd ever known in her own time. When she looked back on the person she was just seventy-two hours ago and juxtaposed her to the woman whose skin she sat in now, she didn't even recognize herself.

He sat down, spent, tired. "I know you are, Kathryn. I know. But it's not alright."

"Is that why you're angry with me?" Her voice was like that of a timid girl.

He shook his head, staring at their feet and the floor. "Yes. That and other things – I don't know when I got so angry. Maybe it was after the Equinox; maybe it was the Void, Kashyk, Michael... I don't know."

Again tears formed, fat ones that rolled down her cheek and plopped onto her new coat. "How do I make it right, Chakotay? I can't do this without you. I can't bear your anger, your hatred. Everything is happening so fast. In three days we've essentially switched lives. Everything is changing so fast and I don't know how to keep up. I need help, your help. Please."

"I don't hate you, Kathryn," He whispered, moving close but not touching her. "I don't hate you, I…" He stopped himself this time. "I don't hate you."

"Thank you," she hiccupped. "We're lost, Chakotay. We don't know what's coming, but we're going to be dead in a few years. We're going to die here. And we've left a whole crew alone in the Delta Quadrant without a captain and a first officer. What have we done?"

"We didn't do anything, Kathryn. Things like this, they just happen." He soothed before he cleared his throat and nudged her on the shoulder. "Come on, let's calm down and get the rest of this put away and then have some dinner. Alright?"


	20. Chapter 20

"It's nice to have sleep clothes that fit," he smiled, walking out of the bathroom in his new sweatpants and T-shirt.

"Mmm," She grinned back at him from under the covers. "They suit you. Is that what you wore to bed on Voyager?"

A blush came up and covered his cheeks. "Um, no." He shook his head as he turned off the light near the bed ands settled on top of the covers. He could see her eyebrow cock quizzically. "I, uh, didn't wear anything to bed on Voyager."

She almost chuckled, but it failed miserably. He was so close – in bed with her - and she was having trouble not picturing him naked. There was that familiar tingle between her legs, which she drew into her body and tightened to quell the sensation. "Oh," was all she could manage. "Well goodnight, Chakotay."

The cabin became frigid at night, both of them having turned the heat down to save energy per Jan and Gregg's instructions, and slowly but surely the room descended into utter, bone-chilling iciness that even the blankets couldn't compensate for.

He could feel it, the shaking, subtly at first, but then more noticeably. "Kathryn?"

"I'm fine," She whispered. "Just cold."

Truth be told, he was freezing as well. In his effort to give her space, they were both so far apart that there was no heat shared between them. "Um," he didn't know how to phrase what he was going to say.

"We could share," She chittered, completing his sentence for him.

He shouldn't be daft, but "Share?"

"You could come under here with me."

He almost groaned out loud. He was a grown man, in charge of his bodily urges – but he'd never been that close to her. He'd held her once, a long time ago, on New Earth. But that had been brief, a mere hour or less. And they'd both been so terrified that they'd thought nothing of it. But to sleep next to her, having her body spooned against his… that was one test he didn't know if he'd pass. But what could he say? No?

"Please," She shuddered again. "I'm never going to get any sleep like this and you aren't either."

He huffed a breath in resignation. "Alright," She could hear the resignation in his voice as he got out of bed only to rearrange the blankets over the main comforter. He steeled himself before he climbed in next to her. "Um, Kathryn." He cleared his throat before his body touched hers. "I'd like to apologize in advance for any untoward responses-"

"It's fine, Chakotay." Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, competing with the cold and the shivering for which sensation her brain would register. She'd never been this close to him - only in her fantasies, but never in reality. Reflexively, a sticky wetness pooled between her thighs. She tamped them together harder; he'd be able to smell her if she wasn't careful.

Her body was small, delicate but strong – just like he imagined it. To make the most out of their shared warmth he saddled up to her back, his legs bending around hers, spooning to her completely.

The sensation was rich, but he couldn't enjoy it; he kept going over star charts in his head, thinking of anything – absolutely anything to ignore the fact that her bottom was pressed deliciously against his groin.

Warmth oozed off of him as she settled in his arms. His right arm curled lightly over her waist. She fit against him – her head just under his chin, her back into his chest. It would sound corny to say that they fit like two pieces of a puzzle, but regardless that was the sensation.

"Better," She whispered, her shivering erased by the balminess that exuded from him.

"Goodnight, Kathryn."


	21. Chapter 21

Morning came soon and she opened her eyes, the early dawn light illuminating the room. And that's when she felt him pressed up against her back. She almost groaned out loud in rapture. It had been so long since she'd slept next to a man, since she'd felt that sensation anywhere near her. But to have it pressed against her, knowing that it belonged to the man that she loved – it was overpowering.

But this wasn't the time, she chided herself. Not when things between them were like this; not when there was so much hurt, so much baggage that was unopened. She had hurt him, over and over again so much that she didn't know if he could ever forgive her, or even why he should. But, she reminded herself, she wasn't the lone perpetrator; he'd hurt her too.

She never knew the whole story with his other women. She'd never asked him in depth about Riley or Kellin, or even that Species 8472 that he'd gone on a 'date' with. Looking back now, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She remembered with each of them how much it had hurt at the time – how much his affiliation with them had stung. But she had no reason to feel that way – he wasn't hers; they weren't involved or married. She had no claim to him. But, still, it felt like he should be.

She let her thoughts drift to her ship again, to the all the people that she loved on board. She thought of her mother and her sister back on Earth in her time, two people she'd never see again. And she thought of this new life – a life with Chakotay. It was so much like New Earth; all things considered they were just as alone here as they were on that isolated planet. But this was time was different, she amended – they had people now. Jan and Gregg – she didn't think that they could have been more lucky. They didn't ask questions, even though they should, and Kathryn was eternally grateful to them for that. And they gave them something to do to feel useful.

Almost a little too briefly, a week passed by and Christmas came and went with little consequence. Jan and Gregg hosted a small Christmas party for the medical students and interns who were required to be at the hospital on the day. Kathryn smiled, it had been a good night – it had been wonderful to meet new people. They were introspective, curious, and their conversation interesting. She loved listening to their stories and hearing about their work.

She thought of Voyager; about what the crew would have done for Christmas, where they were, if they were safe, if they'd stopped searching and moved on. Vainly she wondered if they were missed. Of course, they'd be missed – but certainly Chakotay more so. She chuckled at the thought, catching his attention.

"What?" He smiled and looked up from the pile of papers in front of him.

"Nothing," She shook her head. "I was just thinking about the crew, about you."

He sat back in his chair and amusement played out across his features. "What about me?"

"Well I was just wondering about the crew – about what they were doing. I wondered if they had given up on us yet, if they'd moved on..." She looked down a little abashedly. "I was wondering if they missed us, and then I decided that they probably missed you more than me."

"Why do you say that?" He looked at her intently, leaning his elbows on the table. "I don't think that at all. Your crew loves you, Kathryn. I've never seen a crew so devoted to their captain as our crew is to you."

"Was."

"What?"

"Was devoted to me." She stopped, a sudden thought hitting her. "Do you think we've given up too easily? That we accepted our being stranded and our situation too soon?"

He looked away, into his hands. "I've been asking myself the same question. I know the shuttle is useless. If the core fused, which it is, then there's no chance of salvaging the craft without having access to a new core. But maybe it's our residual sense of reluctance – our sense of hope - that's keeping us from destroying the shuttle."

She nodded; he was right. "I feel like I should be doing more to get back, but I don't know what to do." She rubbed her eyes and looked at him again. "I'm the _captain_! I'm supposed to have an answer for everything – a solution for every quagmire."

"You usually do." He volunteered. "But Kathryn," he whispered emphatically. "You're only human – you're not a solution generator or a magician. There are some things that we can't change – that simply just are."

She nodded her head, looking down as she made her confession. "I've always admired and hated this about you."

"What?" He asked quizzically.

"On New Earth this is exactly what you were like; you just accepted our circumstances and made a life for yourself, tried to be happy. But I was the one chomping at the bit, ready to pounce, never able to sit down because I wanted so badly to find a solution and get back to Voyager. But you're right," she acquiesced. "This time it's different."

"This is who you are, Kathryn. And this is who I am. You wouldn't be you if you weren't tenacious, if you didn't go after things as voraciously as you do. It's one of the things I…" He stopped again and the moment hung there, heavy between them. "It's one of the things I admire about you. But-"

"Even the eagle knows when to rest?" She smiled, mirroring his words from so long ago.

His face lit up with the biggest smile she'd seen in a long time. "You remembered. I didn't think you were listening to anything I said."

"No." She smiled shyly. "I listened to every word you said."

Again, they let the moment settle as they looked at one another. "On Monday, tomorrow, we destroy the shuttle."

"How?" She asked, not having seen it since before the crash, not knowing the state it was in or where it was.

"We'll go tomorrow morning, after Jan and Gregg leave for work. It's not far from here and I think I remember the way. By foot it might take us an hour. We'll take anything that's salvageable that we can use; any padds, hyposprays, medkits. And then we'll somehow have to trigger a small avalanche to completely bury the craft. I remember that it's shrouded behind rocks and a small hill so that shouldn't be too hard to do..."

"Were the back-up generators damaged?"

"Everything was. I checked all systems before we left. But we might hopefully, by some miracle, find a way to generate just enough power for a few moments to dislodge the rocks surrounding it and bury it. And then we'll just pray that no one ever finds it within the next two years before…"

"Monday then," she sighed, her heart leaden. "We'll do it on Monday."


	22. Chapter 22

"What are your New Year's resolutions, Kathryn?" He whispered into the night. His breath tickled her ear, his deep voice rumbling in his chest and vibrating against her back.

"I don't make them." She lied before she backtracked. "Well, that's not entirely true."

"Oh?"

"On Voyager I resolved every year to get the crew home. But," she sighed. "I guess that resolution wouldn't really apply here, would it? What about yourself – any resolutions?"

"No. I've never been into making resolutions. Things change so fast that there's no real purpose…"

"Mmm, I know the feeling. But we should make some now."

"Why?"

"Because we're going to die soon," she deadpanned. "And I don't want to live like I have been for the last five years – hell the last forty! Does that sound foolish?"

"What, wanting to be happy? No. Kathryn, it doesn't sound foolish. Have you been unhappy?" He didn't know why he asked; it was such a stupid rhetorical question – it wouldn't take a virtuoso to see that she was.

"Yes." He heard her voice wave and her body tremble in his arms. "Yes, I'm not ashamed to say that I haven't been happy."

"I know. You never let yourself be, Kathryn. Why?"

"Because I was the captain. I wasn't supposed to be happy after what I'd done - after how careless I was. I ripped families apart – husbands from wives, mothers from daughters and sons…" She could hear the objections before he said anything; how she'd saved the Ocampa, Kes, and how her mission was a success – they'd surveyed the Delta Quadrant and were gathering enough data to keep Starfleet's scientists occupied for years, or something like that. But to her they were all empty platitudes.

But to her surprise, none of them escaped from his lips and the reality made her huff in spite of herself.

"What?" his arm tightened around her waist. And then her thoughts hit him, almost as though she'd shared them directly. "You thought I was going to give you the same speech I gave you in the Void? No," he whispered. "Yes, your decision to save the Ocampa and destroy the array might have been construed foolish and reckless by some, but not to me." He paused, holding her closer. "You saved my life, Kathryn. You saved all of the Maquis. We would likely be rotting in a Cardassian prison by now. But, more likely I would be dead. And so would B'Elanna, Chell, Mike Ayala, Ken… all the people that we love. So, no, Kathryn, I never considered your decision imprudent because it's given me the chance to start over, to know you, to become your friend; you gave me and others a second chance. And I've never thanked you for it."

Tears streaked down her cheeks at the thought of her life without this man. And he was right; if she hadn't destroyed the array, he would be in prison along with all of the people that she had come to cherish. And that thought alone she couldn't bear.

All of a sudden, she felt a weight receding from her shoulders. "Thank you, Chakotay," she breathed wobbly. "I never looked at it like that before."


	23. Chapter 23

She hadn't worn her uniform for weeks now; she'd kept the pants and the undershirt – they weren't conspicuous or novel. But her jacket, she'd folded it away along with her pips and comm. badge; they had no use for them here. But this morning, it seemed fitting to don all of it; she would commit this as a Starfleet officer – it would be her last act as Captain.

It had only been a few weeks, but putting on their complete uniforms felt odd; they didn't fit in with their new schematic or the mindset they'd been in. The material felt foreign, stiff compared to the soft cottons of the clothing that they'd been wearing.

She turned to him, handing him her four pips and he affixed them to her collar for the last time. She did the same with his Maquis rank bar. Nothing was spoken; rather everything they needed to communicate was done with their eyes, their body language, or the touch of a hand. They learned a long time ago that words weren't always needed – not between them.

The only things she'd omitted were her boots. They'd similarly found a home in the small closet, shut away, unneeded now. Truth be told, she'd always hated wearing them. They gave her a backache and made her feet cramp. The added height was necessary, she thought. It gave her a command presence. But not now, she reminded herself, she was no one; she no longer commanded a Starfleet vessel – no longer were 150 lives dependent on her to survive. At first, the notion tore at her. Being the Captain was her complete persona; somewhere along the way Kathryn the woman had gotten lost. She still struggled, and she likely would for a while yet, with that reality.

But Chakotay was patient with her – he gave her space, place to breathe; he made no demands on her. She often wondered how one man could endure so much and still be so tolerant, so kind. The past weeks, though difficult, had been somewhat of a revelation in that respect. All of their time was spent together, working, collaborating, talking, and sleeping. At night they would lay close, sharing warmth but nothing more, his arms around her, and they would talk. They'd dialogue through their new life, the new things they were experiencing, the applications for the camp, Jan and Gregg, what the future might hold. Or they would reminisce about Voyager, about their crew and friends, and anything else that came to mind.

She'd forgotten how much she loved talking with him. Yes, of course they'd had conversations – allegedly they were best friends. They shared dinners and meetings, but nothing quite so intimate as what they had now; they had never shared this much of themselves with each other.

On the ship, things were different; she was trying to maintain a level of command, but more than that, she didn't want to get _this_ close to him. Subconsciously, she knew that once that box was opened, a thousand things would tumble out and they would both be powerless to stop that careening avalanche.

The snow had melted somewhat, leaving a cold slushy mix in its place. But for the first time, he could see patches of dirt peeking through, small glimpses of earth. He led the way with her following slightly behind him as they made their way down the road. It was his first time in weeks being off the property – it hadn't even occurred to him that it was that long. He'd become so used to staying in the same place that the reality wasn't that unnatural.

He remembered the route almost instinctively, though. He recalled that it wasn't too long until Jan had turned down onto the driveway after she'd picked them up. The driveway, though, seemed to go on forever; he hadn't remembered that. However, once they came upon the main road, he recognized the site where they'd been rescued and took the turn into the densely wooded forest.

Not half an hour later, he saw the rocky knoll. "There." He pointed. "It's just behind that hill."

"You were right," she demurred. "It's well hidden. I just hope no one's seen it…"

"I don't think so; if it they had, it would be in the news, and I haven't seen anything on any of the online newspapers."

He had been looking, trolling rather, on the Internet almost since they'd gotten the computer. Like a true anthropologist, it enthralled him.

In the 24th century, everything one could ever want to know was stored on databases; Voyager's was extensive. But the Internet was a new kind of treat that he had only read about in history books. The bevy of knowledge available engrossed him; he read everything he could about this time – the politics, the culture; there were maps, images, and different websites – absolutely anything and everything.

She gasped when she finally saw the shuttle and the state that it was in. It was a wonder that they'd survived, and escaped with as few injuries as they did. The front of the shuttle was sickeningly smashed in, as was the starboard side as it laid morbidly against the rocks.

"It's useless." She stated rhetorically. "You were right."

"Let's go inside and salvage whatever we can and then we'll try to get enough energy to trigger a small avalanche. The soil will be wet with the snow partially melted, and there are enough rocks here to bury it if we do this correctly."

She nodded, as she walked past him and stepped inside the shuttle. It was eerie, strange, to be surrounded by something so familiar again. The consoles were black, devoid of power so she scoured the compartments, putting padds, both medkits, and a holoimager in her bag.

Chakotay was situated in front of the power grid off to port. Frustratingly, he was having no luck generating even an iota of power.

"Here," she moved close to him, gently taking the hypospanner from his hand as she manipulated the wires. "This," she explained as a spark signalled a small flicker of energy as she shuttle came weakly to life. "Should be enough to trigger the self destruct and bury the shuttle."

She took two quick steps over to the command console and quickly operated the controls as she ignored the tremor in her hands.

This was it.

The destruction of the shuttle signalled, with a deafening finality, the end of their former lives unless by some act of benevolent chance Voyager was able to find them.

"Self Destruct sequence initiated," the familiar voice of the computer heralded weakly.

"We have to leave," She hurried out of the chair and grabbed his hand as they stepped off the shuttle and closed the hatch.

They scurried away as it rumbled the ground underneath it. Crossing her fingers, she prayed it would work; otherwise they'd have an even bigger a problem on their hands.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the rocks surrounding the shuttle started to displace from their precarious position and began falling, crushing the craft and burying it, away from sight.

Soon, all of it disappeared from view, buried under earth to hopefully stay hidden for centuries. If it was found in the future, well maybe… maybe what? Maybe they'd know what happened to Captain Janeway and her First Officer? Would it even matter?

They stood on at a distance, watching as the last rock fell. Before they left, they walked around the site, checking that everything was hidden. Satisfied, they silently turned to leave, to put it and their former lives out of their memory, to forget who they were, and start over.


	24. Chapter 24

"My father," Kathryn began as her throaty alto pierced the calm tranquility of the forest as they made their way, following the route back by their tracks in the snow. "He used to call me his Golden Bird." She laughed forlornly, blushing at the memory. "I don't know why; I never asked him. I was just so used to it growing up. Maybe it was because of my hair…" She gripped his hand a little tighter as she continued with the story. "Golden Bird, he'd say and he'd get this twinkle in his eye. Don't be afraid if things don't always go your way. You can't control everything in life. You just do your best, and hope for the rest…"

She fell contemplatively silent for the next few steps before she stopped walking, abruptly halting his movement as well. He turned and she stared straight at him, hiding nothing – her features open, vulnerable and honest. "But I haven't done my best. We don't belong here, Chakotay. And we're never getting back to Voyager, unless by some unlikely miracle." She looked away and sighed heavily before rejoining his gaze. "This is our life now."

He cocked his head to the side, keeping her gaze. "Your father was a wise man, Kathryn." He took a step closer to her, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her porcelain features longer than could be considered friendly. "He knew what a perfectionist you are." He smiled, eliciting a similar grin from her. "And he knew that you had a terrible penchant for blaming yourself for things that were out of your control. _Let it go, Kathryn_. None of this was your doing – none of it. Not the ship being stranded in the Delta Quadrant, not the deaths of Cavit, or Stadi, Lindsay Ballard, Jack Hogan, or any of them. And neither is it your fault that we're here now. So let it go."

Tears gnawed at her, fighting for release. She could hold them in most times, but not now; the pressure built and they spilled over on to her cheeks as he tenderly wiped them away and drew her into his arms.

"Let it go, Golden Bird."

/

He removed her pips one by one, slowly and reverentially. Reciprocally she removed his rank bar and they placed the lot of them in their shared bureau, hidden from view and left to be forgotten.

He turned his back and together they removed their uniforms, changing and folding the red and black garments carefully, replacing them in the blackness of the closet to be abandoned like their comrades.

She turned to him, admiring his form in the jeans that Jan had bought. They suited him; he looked like he was meant to wear them. The boxy cut hung well on his slim hips and gave a tantalizing hint of what lay underneath without being revealing. He looked handsome – not that he didn't usually, but seeing him like this made her heart stop.

The tension between them had peetered out as both of them simply chose to ignore the five thousand ton elephant that was their history in the room. But it wasn't right to having things like this between them. Not anymore. For six and a half years she had walked on egg shells with him, worrying about saying too much, letting on too much. If this was to be their life, then she wanted to be open and honest with him; she wanted to share all of herself and reciprocally, she wanted all of him.

So she asked him. "Will you say them now, Chakotay?"

He turned, meeting her gaze as he closed the wooden drawer. "Say what, Kathryn?"

"Will you say all the things to me that you've wanted to say for the last six and a half years? I want…" She vacillated for a moment, looking away before looking back into dark brown eyes and starting again. "It's a new year, and this is our new life, and I want to start fresh. So, will you say all the things you've want to say to me, but I've been too stubborn and prideful to listen to?"

He moved around the bed to her. "Will you say them as well? Will you ask me what questions I've seen swimming in your head for years, but you've never voiced?"

She nodded her head. "Yes."

He smiled warily. "Everything?"

"Yes, Chakotay. Everything."


	25. Chapter 25

She followed him into the sitting area and they sat, facing one another as she steeled herself for the worst. He smiled when he looked at her bearing: hands folded primly in her lap – her knuckles so white there was almost no blood running through. She sat hunched over with poor posture, timid almost, as if she was about to receive a good lashing.

"Kathryn," he smiled as he touched her arm, bringing her gaze to meet his. "This isn't an inquisition."

She laughed sardonically in spite of herself. "I'm sorry, but I can only imagine what you have to say. There have been so many times where I've hurt you, pushed you, reprimanded you for your goodness and kind counsel, and your comfort..." Her head fell listlessly into her hands as she rubbed her temples. "God, I'm so sorry, Chakotay. For everything."

In a moment he was out of his chair, kneeling in front of her to meet her downcast gaze. "Yes, you've pushed me away. Sometimes you've made me feel terrible just for showing you compassion, or trying to give you advice, but…" He froze; he'd been waiting for a moment like this for years – a moment to tell her all the things he held in his heart: how hurt he was when she turned away from them after their first encounter with the Borg. How much it burned when she pulled away from him after Seven came on board. How jealous he was of her secretive relationship with Seven and how much leniency she allowed her as opposed to other members of the crew. There were so many things he wanted to say, but all that came to mind, foolishly and superficially was, "Did you sleep with him?"

She looked up, meeting his gaze, her pupils fully dilated. "Who?"

"Kashyk," he croaked, surprised with his own brazenness. "Did you, Kathryn?"

Her heart sank with the memory. Kashyk; he was a far forgotten memory. She'd gambled dangerously with him. At the time it had been enthralling; he was an enigma. His personality was convoluted and dark. He'd been a challenge, a puzzle for her to solve. She would be lying to say that she hadn't enjoyed it, that perhaps she had thought of something more with him than just a manipulative kiss in the cargo bay. But, "No. I didn't."

He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "And, uh -"

"No. I didn't."

"Huh?"

"You were going to ask about Michael, the hologram. No." She smiled – flattered that his first two questions would be about her love life. So, he had indeed been jealous. She remembered the week when Kashyk was on board; he's stayed away from her – only speaking to her summarily and hastily about ship's business. But she had questions of her own; questions of a similar nature.

"Oh. Good." He wasn't about to lie and admit that he wasn't magnanimously relieved.

"It was nice," she looked away. "It was nice to be desired like that again, to be wanted not just because I was the captain, but because I was a woman."

He inhaled deeply. He'd always wanted her – never because she was the captain, always because she was a woman. He wanted to tell her how magnificently beautiful she was; how he'd never wanted, nor would ever want a woman like he did her. And not only because of her beauty, but because of her heart – her warmth, her belief in good and her willingness to love for it and grant second chances. He wanted to tell her how long he'd waited for her, and how long he'd continue to wait for only a half promise of a life together.

"Kathryn, I-"

"And you, Chakotay – wasn't it only months after we left New Earth that you ran straight into the arms of Riley Frazier? I remember how passionate you were about her, how vehemently you fought for her. I-"

"In a way that's not fair, Kathryn – to hold me to that. I was expertly manipulated by her, used to further her agenda; she made me think I was in love with her-"

"Is that always the way it goes, Chakotay, with you? Wasn't it only a while after that when we came across yet another blonde – Kellin?" She was up and out of her seat, seeing red at the memory of those two women.

"What are you saying, Kathryn?" He was angry; of course neither of those women were his fault. One couldn't even say they were natural romances, if one could call them that.

"You're always the Goddamn victim, aren't you? Like you have no power where women are concerned; if one comes after you and God-forbid she's blond, you just happen to helplessly fall in love!"

"So I have a shitty love life, is that what you're saying? The only women I think I fall in love with manipulate me? Let's just throw Seska into the mix while we're at it! Oh and we can't forget you!" He said it before he thought it through, and regret immediately oozed from every pore. It wasn't how he wanted to say it; it's not how he wanted her to hear it.

The room went silent, as the temperature seemed to rise a few degrees. The only sounds that penetrated were the sounds of heavy breathing as they stared, livid with one another.

"So did you?" She egged at him. "Did you, Chakotay?"

"No," He breathed crossly. "You really have that little regard for me, Kathryn? You think that I'm that easy, that starved for sex?"

"Yes." Her face crumpled. "No," she quickly amended. "I don't know." Her angry exterior fell away to expose the frail and broken woman underneath. "I don't know. I deserved that."

He sat back down into the chair, rubbing his eyes and beating away the fatigue. "I was so angry – so frustrated with you after the our first encounter with the Borg. I remember like it was yesterday arguing with you in the briefing room before you made that ill-fated alliance – telling you it was a bad idea. But there was no point to any of it! You were going to go through with it regardless, Kathryn – no matter what I said!" He wasn't finished, though. "The same in fluidic space – you used me. And I went along with it because I was so in love with you. And you used that love; you harnessed it to its full extent. I know," He felt guilty in his admission, knowing that he'd done that for the good of the ship. But if he was honest, he did it for her. "I never wanted to let you down. I just kept hoping… And then, that night before we attempted the transwarp conduit – I knew I should have protested, I should have made more of a case. But when you wanted something, Kathryn, it didn't matter who you had to step on or who you had to manipulate – you went after it and used your power to silence any opposition."

"I know," she whispered. She had no defense; everything he said was true. She'd done all of those things – knowing at the time what she had been doing. "I became that captain. The one I never wanted to be; the one I swore I would never be."

"Yes. And it only would have gotten worse. You changed, and I was powerless to stop you, to draw you out of that shell that kept closing around you and isolating you. You've been living in an echo chamber for the past six years where all you hear is your own voice. And after a certain point, I didn't know how to break through. So I stopped fighting, and maybe I shouldn't have. So I failed too; I failed you."

She looked up, meeting his eyes. "No, it's my-"

"Fault? Are we playing this game again, Kathryn?" He smiled wryly at her. "I would have become the same way. No one could live like you have been and not have hardened; it was the nature of our life out there. So I understand why you did it, and why I did it. But I don't want to live like that anymore. Here," He looked around the room, his hand following his gaze. "Here we're equals, and I won't go back to the way things were."

She nodded. "We keep hurting each other; we have for a long time, apparently. We can't continue like this; there has to be some way to move past it."


	26. Chapter 26

He moved close to her and kneeled before her again as he once more lifted her eyes to his. "I can't and I won't pretend anymore that I'm not in love with you. For years I've held that truth inside of me and it's eating me up; not being able to say those words to you, not being able to tell you," he whispered. "It's unbearable."

She turned her head sideways as she tried to quench the tears, which seemed freely intent on falling. Did he realize? Could he even? Did he know that those words were balm to her soul? She thought that events and circumstances over the past four and a half years had killed his love for her – crushed it into a fine dust and scattered it so thin that it might as well not exist.

More fat saline drops fell from her eyes, and then from his. Her small body shook with the rigors of purification as she released her guilt for loving him. None of it mattered anymore; she was no longer his captain, she no longer held his life in her hands.

Back on Voyager, she knew she would never allow herself to be with him, or to love him fully. There was too much that stood in the way, too many arguments yet to be had; too much hurt that would never be resolved. Staying like she was on the ship, she would have died alone along their voyage home, separated by a bulkhead and years of pent up guilt, anguish, and bottomless yearning for the man that she loved. Even the notion by itself was unendurable.

Shyly, he kept his distance from her, allowing her to cry on her own. But then she did something unexpected; she reached for him. And he intercepted, wrapping her in warm arms, the softness of his skin absorbing the wetness of her tears. She sobbed and sobbed as she clung tightly. What seemed like an age later, all that remained were great hiccups that on occasion broke the silence.

"Chakotay," she whispered, sniffling against the fragrant skin of his neck.

He was still content to hold her, and didn't answer right away. So she repeated his name again almost like a benediction. "Chakotay?"

"Yes, Kathryn?" He breathed her in, all of her: the fragrance of her hair, the scent of her skin. This wasn't the first time he held her; rather he held her every night. But that was different; there was nothing romantic about it. It had solely been to share a certain warmth and closeness, and to keep away the demons. But now, he noticed the small things about her body that he wouldn't let himself catalogue before; the softness of her breasts against his chest, the slightness of her arms, the pillow of her belly against his.

She wanted to be honest with him – to confess back to him all the things she too felt, all the things she'd quietly spoken a million times into the solitude of her quarters and even in her dreams, but never to him. She moved out of his arms and her hands came up to cradle his handsome face as she took a deep breath and cleansed her soul. "I've been a coward. For six and a half years I've been such a coward. You think you're the only one who's loved, but been unable to show it? Who has burned without quenching?" She released him, looked away, and let her hands fall listlessly into her lap. "I could never place what was between us, even from the start. I hesitated to call it love; it seemed too early, too hasty. But there was something about you, Chakotay – there was something about the entity that we became together." She looked back to him, this time unable to tear her eyes away. "I was engaged to be married to a good man – a man who loved me, and I was supposed to love him. And then you came, and I… I." She stopped for a moment, looking at his features, studying him.

"But you were my First Officer. And that's how I convinced myself to stay away from you. But that didn't stop my heart. And as much as I tried to convince myself that it was just lust, hormones, or the physical proximity… I kept falling in love with you – even when we fought, even when I was angry." She laughed at the unoriginality of the whole schema. "Our arguments, God Chakotay! I mostly instigated all of them because if I didn't spar with you I would have surely crossed my self-made barricades and made love to you."

He bowed his head, a leaden weight leaving his shoulders and a weighted chain removed from around his ankles and wrists with her next words. "I love you Chakotay."

**Now you lot (who ever is reading?) stay tuned for some good craic and a good story ahead. Sorry if I was boring all of ye taking so long to get here! Love hearing from you. Thanks a million for reading and I hope you stay with it. More later! Later chapters will change to M, likely. So.. eh... yeah. **


	27. Chapter 27

She had always had these naïve, girlish notions of the two of them. She thought back briefly to the night before they used the transwarp conduit. The scene in her quarters had been set for seduction; more candles than could be considered appropriate for a business dinner, special flowers from the airponics bay, and an impressive replicated dinner that she'd slaved over for days beforehand.

In her imagination, she'd said the words to him and watched the emotion play out on his features; he was elated, immediately responding with some foolish pre-contrived words of his own. And the rest of the fantasy followed some engineered schematic that was worthy of a holonovel, or one of B'Elanna's Klingon romances; he would grab her into his arms, push her against the wall – not too roughly, but assertive enough. And she would melt as his erection nudged her thigh, his breath warming her neck, and his eyes piercing hers.

She'd taken catalogue of him in secret on New Earth, furtively watching him work outside on his projects, or when he went to the creek to swim. Once, the day had been sweltering and he'd removed his shirt, letting the sun bathe and glint off of damp honey skin. She never remembered seeing a man like that so exposed. Of course she wasn't sexually naïve; she'd been engaged twice. But neither of them were ever so, dare she even commit the thought? Masculine, enthralling, captivating, or had quite so much sex appeal.

So she itemized what she could and used it to fuel her fantasies of him, of them, of their non-life together. When she looked back on it, it was absolutely foolish. Both of them, together every day, sharing work and stories, distractedly in love with one another but too proud or too shy or too obstinate to admit it.

"Where are you, Kathryn?" He whispered, looking up at her as his knees started to cramp from kneeling on the hard floor.

"Here, with you." Her hand came up to touch his face, to smooth over the intricate tattoo over his left eye.

"No." He intercepted her hand before she met his skin. "You're far away."

"I was thinking." Her posture yielded as she let out a full breath. "About us. About how much-"

"Kathryn," he smiled, silencing her with a soft finger over her lips. "This could go on for days – both of us regretting the past and drugging up ancient hurt. And we still can, but later. I want to savour this moment with you."

"It's late," she stated rhetorically to break the silence. The dusk was already setting, and the lights were on in Jan and Gregg's house up on the hill, but they would let them be. Jan and Gregg gave them space, privacy to work and to live. They had their own lives to lead, their own work. Over the past three weeks, they'd fallen into a routine; Chakotay and Kathryn would sort applications during the day, reading them from front to back and cataloguing them in the computer. The older couple left them to their own devices, trusting them implicitly, even in spite of knowing little to nothing about them. But they were grateful for the help; happy to enjoy a semblance of retirement and having more time to teach their students at the hospital.

"Should we eat?" Abashedly, she wasn't sure what to do. In a moment she was shy, uncertain of herself, uncertain of what he wanted from her.

He winced as he got up off the floor, his knees reminding him that he wasn't as young as he used to be. "Is that what you want?"

"No," she announced. "Yes. No." She laughed at herself as she stood from the chair. "I don't know why I'm so nervous, Chakotay…"

"Kathryn," his eyes were kind as she looked up at him. "We don't have to-"

"I want to," she rubbed her face. "God I want you so badly, Chakotay. But I'm nervous, for lack of a better word."

He grinned at her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. "You don't know how many times I've thought about making love to you," she blushed. "_So many times_. I have so many fantasies about us, what we'd be like, how it would be. I had this silly notion that we'd confess how much we loved one another and then we'd just fall into bed and make love with glorious abandon! But,"

"I'm nervous, too," he blurted, cutting her off. "Terrified, even. You think you're the only one who's fantasized? Gods, Kathryn, I can't even tell you how many times I've thought of us together – enough to fill several volumes!"

They both laughed in tandem at the absurdity of the situation. "It figures," she grinned. "Nothing ever goes according to plan."

"Well," he laughed. "Not with us, anyway."

"No," she shook her head, looking at the cabin around them, reminding herself again that it was 2014, not 2376. "Certainly not with us."


	28. Chapter 28

It wasn't late, barely gone six o'clock. But the day had leveled more than a few emotions, leaving them tired and spent. So he was contented to hold her, like he always did, as they looked out the window at the clear night sky, to gaze at the stars and the bright full moon.

"They're out there," he whispered into her ear, his breath warming her neck and tickling the baby hairs behind her ear.

"They feel so far away. They are so far away," she amended. "All of it. Everything about our lives; what it was – our mission, our crew, the day to day living on Voyager," she listed. "Neelix's quibbles in the messhall; B'Elanna and Seven's arguments, Tom and Harry's banter on the bridge."

"I know." He breathed her in. They fell quiet again, each consumed by their own thoughts. "Thank you."

His statement confused her, as she turned in his arms to look at him. "Why?"

"For this," his warm arm drew her closer, his hand coming to rest lightly on her waist.

She smiled, still confused. "Chakotay, we're not doing anything."

"Being here with you, being able to say that I love you. That's something."

A pit settled in her throat and she tried to quench it with a smile, but failed miserably and looked away. "How long were you going to wait, Chakotay?" She whispered, staring aimlessly at a piece of lint on his white T-shirt.

"I wanted you, Kathryn. So I was going to wait… I kept hoping that we'd get home, so that I could ask you –" but he stopped suddenly. "Have you known all these years?"

She thought back to the early days of their voyage, back to the days of New Earth. "In the beginning, I hoped… And then we were on New Earth and I thought that we had forever. Becoming your lover would have been inevitable. And if Tuvok hadn't come back I would have gone to you." She laughed dryly as his gaze met hers again. "I had this whole speech planned out, and then I fantasised about how it would happen when I told you. But, in the last year and a half, after all that's happened, after all the times I turned down your kindheartedness and after all the words we exchanged… I couldn't see how you could still love me."

His hand moved from her waist, lightly up her arm to her soft hair. "Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. Love never fails."

"Who said that?" Her voice broke, touched by the soft cadence of his voice and the words that he spoke.

"The Bible," he smiled, aimlessly twirling a piece of her hair in his fingers.  
"Why wouldn't you let us be together?" He asked after a time, his voice gravelly with emotion.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "It seems so irrational now that I look back on it. In the early days I thought it was too soon; I was still engaged – not in love, but bound some semblance of fidelity. Then, I wondered how it would look to the crew. I thought that it might undermine command, that it would hinder my judgment, be a distraction. But that wasn't the truth," she inhaled a deep breath. "I was so scared to love you fully, Chakotay. From afar I loved you more than I'd loved any man; and I'd thought that I was head over heels in love with my first fiancé. But I felt things for you that I hadn't known I was capable of feeling. And that terrified me. I thought that maybe when we got home, things would be different: I would be free to love you outside the confines of command and without guilt if something happened to you… So at the end of the day, I was just a coward."

He nodded his head and grinned, bemused. "Kathryn Janeway, a coward? That's one descriptor I would never associate with you."

"Are we too late?"

"Too late?"

"It starts this year, doesn't it? The unrest. And then early next year-"

"We can't sacrifice now, or live in fear for what the future holds. We'll do our best; try to make a life for ourselves, and be happy."

Her body ached for all the things they'd never have, all the things she wanted with him, and all the precious secrets, desires, she held in her heart about their life together.

"What?" His gentle voice broke her reverie.

"Nothing, it's-"

"What?" He smiled and shook his head against the softness of the pillow. "We're not doing this anymore, Kathryn. We're not holding things from each other, or being secretive or sly with our feelings," and then he laughed. "It doesn't matter anyway, I've always been able to read you like a book!"

She met his chocolate gaze and tried to attempt a passable glare, but failed miserably, her face melting into a smile. "Yes, you have."

"What were you going to say?"

She breathed deeply. "I was going to say that being here, in this time, we'll never be able to have children and see them grow, or a have a house of our own, or even a silly dog." She groaned at how monotonously cliché she sounded. "God that sounds so mppphhh-"

He was overwhelmed; she'd thought of their children. All the beautiful things that he'd dreamed with her for all these years – she wanted them as well. And he was overcome with the need to finally kiss her, to taste her. He had promised himself not to rush her – not that six and a half years of courtship wasn't enough. But they were emotionally chaffed after having to destroy the shuttle and cut themselves off from the only existence they'd ever known to settle for a life living off the good graces and the charity of others. But he couldn't help it and so he kissed her, leaving hesitation at the door when she opened her mouth under his with a groan. His tongue ran the length of hers as his lips moved sensuously over her own before he ran out of breath.

She smiled when he pulled away. "What the hell took you so long?"


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter rated M**

He laughed, "just biding my time." And then he kissed her again without a shred of vacillation or nervousness. A groan came from the back of his throat when her leg nudged between his, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair conversely as his tangled in the softness of hers, and one propped him over her.

Kissing him was like nothing she imagined – it was immeasurably better, intoxicating, and she wanted – no, needed- more. She felt him over her – the hardness of his erection nudging against her pubic bone, the warmth of his body imbuing her. She began to rock against him, trying to angle him to rub over her instantly swollen clitoris. But he remained still, causing her to moan in frustration and break their kiss. "Chakotay," she was breathless, still trying to force enough oxygen into her lungs to think coherently. "Please. Chakotay, please."

He felt her beneath him, hot, writhing, moaning in want. He wanted her so badly and under any other circumstance he would have indulged her – taken her right there, hard, and without a thought. But this was different; this was Kathryn, the only woman he ever truly loved, the woman he would spend eternity with, and he wanted the first time they made love not to be a reaction to the stress of the day, or their emotional openness and vulnerability. He was willing to wait, even though the growing hardness in his sweatpants was painful in its intensity, and even though every nerve ending in his body burned for her. "No," he croaked, still not believing his own word.

He saw the look of utter disappointment in her eyes, almost anger. "What?"

"Not tonight, Kathryn. It's too much; it won't be right. And I want this to be right," he breathed against her neck. "I want this to be perfect."

She groaned, exasperated, not believing that he was saying no to her despite how much she knew he wanted her; how much he needed her. "It is right," she soothed. "And it will be perfect."

He laughed heartily against her. "Are you negotiating with me, Kathryn Janeway?"

"Are you giving me a taste of my own medicine, Chakotay?" She quickly retorted, still undulating against him, desperate to break his resolve.

He shook his head. "Unh uh, Kathryn; I have the will of a saint. You're not going to break me. We will make love. I promise," his lips nudged at her neck, tantalizingly tasting the skin there, almost torturing her with the sensation. "But not tonight."

"Well then," she pushed him off of her with a good a shove and a grin as she smoothed her hands down her body, nudging at the waistband of her sweatpants. "I'll just relieve myself. You don't mind, do you?"

"Kathryn Janeway," he grated as he caught her hand before it disappeared. "You're going to be the death of me! Just wait, one night – just let me hold you. Please. And I promise you that you'll never," he kissed her again, hard. "Never have to do that again."

/

Her rest was incomplete – waking every few hours only to fall back into a restless somnolence. Chakotay, on the other hand, slept soundly – his breathing even and measured throughout the night. They'd shifted several times so that when she woke for the last time, her body was sidled next to his, her leg half draped over his, her arm around his waist.

It was still early – not six o'clock according to the luminescent readout on the bed table.

She rose quietly, careful not to wake the man next to her as she got out of bed. But it wouldn't have mattered anyway; Chakotay slept so soundly that not even a photon torpedo exploding just outside his quarters would have woken him. She, on the other hand, had been given to bouts of insomnia since she was a girl. Her mother would always berate her; "_Katie_," she'd start out in her nag voice. "_If you don't get some rest, those purple marks are going to become permanent_!" She chuckled at the memory as she got up and put a pair of socks on.

The air felt clearer this morning, the atmosphere in their little cabin lighter. It felt good to say those things to him, to hear them in return. She was still heartbroken, dejected at the loss of her crew – her life, her position. Living like this, here, in this time, having no position, no belongings to their name – it wasn't a life that she imagined for herself.

But in spite of everything, she was grateful that she was here with him. It crossed her mind for a moment: being here without him, being with Tom, Seven, or even Tuvok. Yes, they were all people that she cared for, but to be stranded out of time without the man she loved – the thought was untenable.

She looked back at him as she sat on the edge of the bed. He truly was a beautiful man. Not young anymore; he had slight lines around his mouth and his forehead, but they made him who he was; those lines told his story and made him _her_ Chakotay.

It was still dark as she moved into the kitchen and removed coffee filters and coffee from the cabinet. That was another upside about living here: endless coffee and no replicator rations. Jan and Gregg were so sweet; they'd given her a coffee grinder. She'd never had one of her own before and the gift touched her. More than that, it fascinated her – no not the simple machinery, but rather the fine, organic process of being able to handcraft the perfect cup of coffee. It made the end product so much more enjoyable – so much more sensuous. They had also given her a huge bag of something called Starbucks coffee beans. The smell of them was intoxicating, rich, and alluring; opening the bag and breathing in their odour was an experience in and of itself.

All of a sudden she felt a warm hand on her waist. She gasped as it moved around to her stomach and warm lips found that spot behind her ear. She felt his morning erection pressed into the small of her back, and moaned a little as she leaned back against it.

Without words, he spun her around and caught her lips in a kiss. She opened her mouth immediately, darting her tongue out to trace the intricate bow of his upper lip. He broke contact briefly, keeping his eyes locked with hers as he bent down and lifted her onto the small counter. Locking their lips again, his hands found purchase on the bottom of her T-shirt and reefed it quickly over her head.

Breathlessly he stared at her in awe: beautiful shoulders, full breasts, small waist, and a red flush of arousal travelling up towards her neck. She was perfect, winded as she stared at him, watching him watch her. He was tentative, not wanting to rush – instead wanting to savour the moment. But she was impatient, taking his hand and placing it on her breast. "Kathryn," he groaned, his hands on her smooth warm skin, his mouth nipping at her soft neck as he moved towards her freckled chest.

Her hands tangled in his hair as she moaned, helplessly, rocking against him.

"_Chakotay_," his name was a garbled cry as his mouth latched on to her breast not before she felt his hands at the waistband of her pants, pulling them down and discarding them on the floor. He stood back again, leaving her bereft as he gazed at her. "Gods, I need you," he breathed moving back to her, wrapping her legs around his waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. In three short steps they were in the bedroom, his clothes similarly divested before they stood before each other completely bare.

She made the first move, almost tackling him to the bed, overawed as her naked skin met his fully for the first time.

She gasped when she encountered the nakedness of his erection against her leg. Thick, long, hot. He took her momentary distraction to roll her underneath him, aligning their sexes for a moment. "Chakotay!" She cried, wanting him, aching for him.

She was picturesque, writing beneath him, flushed in the early light of morning. Her smell was overpowering, addictive and he wanted all of her – to consume her, taste her, be one with her. His left hand moved down, lightly over her abdomen, eliciting a flutter in the muscles underneath. Keeping her gaze trained on his, he moved to spread her, feeling the abundant wetness.

She cried out, arching against him when he spread her folds, his deft fingers moving around the ample moisture. "So wet," he ground against her neck as he moved up, capturing her mouth in a greedy kiss.

He continued to touch her as his head moved down her body, nipping lightly and tasting her as he went. She was teetering so precariously on the edge that if he did what he intended to do, she would come almost instantly.

"Chakotay," he didn't listen, so unilaterally focused on his goal. "_Chakotay_!" Her hands came up and grabbed his arms, halting his downward motion. "Please," she begged, her tone pebbly with emotion. "I want you. Now!" She shook her head, almost crying at the intensity of how badly she needed him. "I can't wait."

"Kathryn," he rasped, moving quickly up her body, one hand spreading her legs farther apart and the other palmed his erection. "_I'm sorry_," he whispered against her lips as he began to push in. She cried out at the sensation, of being stretched so far after so long. But she made no attempt to stop him, rather keeping a firm hand on his buttocks and not letting him pull away. "I'm sorry," he ground for the second time, feeling how tight she was it was almost assured that he was hurting her.

Though it stung, the feeling of him was overwhelming. He filled her to the hilt, pressing up against that one spot that drove her to insanity's edge. He gritted his teeth again at the sensation of her – how well he fit, how much pleasure he took from her.

She undulated up against him, almost frustrated with his concern. "Move," she pleaded.

He smiled; she needn't have begged.

His strokes were calculated, long – sliding out almost all the way and sliding back in. But his self-control was razor thin and after mere seconds he was helpless to stop the frenzied pace that ensued. She came almost instantly, screaming and clenching hard all around him. Her nails left half-moons in his back with the intensity of her come.

Still painfully erect, he watched her fall to pieces all around him as she screamed his name, telling him that she loved him. After long moments, her rigours started to quiet, leaving her shaking. "You're beautiful," he rasped as he started pounding into her again, triggering her for a second time and coming himself. She felt his semen wash against her womb – she felt that warmth that she'd so desperately been missing, and she felt whole.


	30. Chapter 30

"So," Jan drawled, eyeing Kathryn over her coffee cup. "How are things?"

"Hmm?" Kathryn quickly looked up from the computer, distractedly not answering.

There was something different about her this morning, Jan thought: the way she held herself, the lightness in her demeanour. "Kathryn," she smiled walking around the island and shutting the laptop.

"What?" The younger woman looked up. "Oh, Jan, I'm sorry. Did you ask me something?"

"There's something different about you today, Kathryn." Her grin stayed plastered, a knowing twinkle in her eye instantly surfaced. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Kathryn lied; everything was different this morning.

Jan shook her head. "Unh uh, young lady. Tell me."

Kathryn just smiled. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jan."

And then it dawned; she didn't know how she didn't place it earlier. "You and Chakotay! Finally! Well, how was it?"

"Jan!" Kathryn laughed out loud; a blush crept on her neck, but stayed hidden behind her turtleneck. "I don't think universe heard you!" She feigned concern, but she didn't mind in the slightest; she herself wanted to shout it from the rooftops – that yes, Kathryn Janeway had slept with her first officer, the man she loved, and it was mind-blowing. That flush crept higher when she thought of this morning; how he'd brought her to the edge of ecstasy over and over again, and just when she thought she couldn't take anymore he'd pushed her further. She'd never been with anyone like him; anyone so passionate and giving. He'd made their love making about her, worshiping her body, saying words of adoration – the words that she'd heard him say to her in her dreams. And she'd done the same, for hours and hours on end. "It was…" She sighed, shaking her head, not knowing the words to describe what they'd shared. "He was…"

"It's alright dear, it's plain to see with a man like Chakotay…"

Kathryn met her gaze, still grinning like the cat got the cream. "Yes." Was all she could manage without embarrassing herself.

"Well, I'm very happy for you. It was about time; I can tell that was brewing for a good while."

"That obvious?"

Jan rolled her eyes, motioning with her hands. "Like a blinking neon sign, dearie."

"I'll keep that in mind." God Almighty! Kathryn thought. She wondered if it had always been that obvious to everyone around her, to the crew. She wondered what they thought; did they think they were together? They couldn't have – not after that episode with Michael and what a fool he'd made out of her. But still…

"Now, Kathryn," the older woman began. "I just wanted to tell you how grateful we are for what you and Chakotay have been doing, but-"

Kathryn's heart sank; were they throwing them out? She didn't see this coming. Instantaneously a thousand different queries came to mind; where would they go? What would they do? How would they get there?

"Kathryn?" Jan interrupted her frantic musing. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Kathryn covered. "I'm sorry. What were you saying, Jan?"

"Well Gregg and I, this is the first time that we've had so much help before. It's freed up our schedule, given us more time with our patients and students. And we're so appreciative… but we were wondering if you wouldn't mind taking on a little bit more."

She almost breathed an audible sigh of relief; they still needed them, they weren't booting them out. "Of course, Jan. Whatever we can do to help." She laughed, "Chakotay and I haven't felt like we've been doing enough. You and Gregg have been so kind, giving us a place to live, to work, clothing. It's almost too much, Jan-"

"Kathryn, Kathryn!" She smiled. "Nonsense. We are so thankful for your help. So it's you doing us the favour, all right? Stop feeling so guilty!"

"Okay," Kathryn bowed her head, again grateful for such kindness. "What can we do to help?"

"I know that you and Chakotay don't know how long you're staying, but we were hoping that you would be here into the summer months. Anyhow, it's a lot of work for the both of us, and we were wondering if you might take on more responsibilities. At the end of last year, several of our contracts with local farmers fell through. We like to provide the campers with all organic, healthy foods and in doing so we like to support our local farmers. Like I said, a few of the farms in the area pulled out of contract, but there are a few new farms opening up – small, sustainable groups that we want to support. Not only that, we need to update some of the buildings. We have money from this years deposits and we want to renovate-"

Kathryn felt as though she needed to be taking all of this down; there were a myriad of things to do. It was daunting. She and Chakotay were unfamiliar with contracts, laws of the time, how to go about doing any of this... "Anyhow, that's just a few things of the things. Will you be okay to do that? I'll give you all the paperwork, and everything else should be on the computer under different file names." She sighed. "I know it's a lot, but it would be a huge help."

"It's not a problem, Jan." Kathryn smiled. And how much work could it be; she had captained a starship in the Delta Quadrant for six and a half years, running a camp couldn't be that hard.

"There's another thing," Jan began.

"Mmm?"

"I know you said that you lost everything in the crash, but we're going to need you to start doing errands for the camp. It might be a good idea for the two of you to renew your license. Anyhow, you must be dying to get off the property anyway!"

Kathryn's stomach sank; they had no documents, no identification. They weren't from this time. There were no records of either of them for another 300 or so years. But what could she say? No?

"Of course," She mumbled, straining to keep a calm façade.

The sound of men's voices came from the outside. "No, Chakotay," Gregg responded jovially. "I really like that idea. We could get the wood from the forests around us; we own all 50 acres, after all. And then we could build the addition on the rec room. It's been too small for years!"

He met her eyes instantly, warmly, before he noticed the hidden look of hesitation, nervousness. "Well," he looked over at the older man. "It's getting late, we should get going." He held his hand out to her as she packed the computer away and went to take it.

"All right, you two," Jan winked. "Be good, we'll see you tomorrow morning. It's best if we get to the DMV early; then we can avoid the lines!"

"Sorry?" Chakotay looked back at Jan.

"We'll take you two to the DMV tomorrow, that way you can get your licenses."

"Great idea, honey," Gregg volunteered. "Chakotay you haven't been off the property in almost a month now, you must be dying to see a little more of Indiana!"

"Oh," he immediately realized the source of Kathryn's strained gaze. "Uh, sure, Gregg, Jan. Thank you. See you tomorrow morning, uh goodnight."

/

"Chakotay," she took his hand, clasping it tightly as they walked through darkness back to the cabin. "Chakotay what are we going to do? There's no record of us being in this time! We have no documents. When we go there tomorrow morning, they're going to know something is wrong, and telling them that we're from the future – you a former Maquis and first officer of a starship, and me a starship captain, they're going to think we're mad!" She was frantic now, running out of breath.

"Kathryn," he stopped in front of the stairs, halting her movement, drawing her close and forcing her to look at him. "I know," he whispered. "We'll figure it out. I don't know what we're going to do, but we'll figure it out like we always do. Alright?"

**Thanks for your comments, everyone. Always so good to hear from you!**

**-Becca**


	31. Chapter 31

"Kathryn," he whispered, turning her on her back and propping himself over her. "Stop shaking," he tried to smile reassuringly, but the look on her face made his stomach sink.

She gently pushed him off and got out of bed and began pacing, pulling her sweater close around her body as a shield from the cold of the room and from the chilling apprehension of tomorrow. "Chakotay how the hell can you be so damn calm?"

He hung his head in response. "Kathryn-"

"No," she plopped back down on the bed, taking his hand and twining their fingers together. "You know what happens to people who don't have documentation. We've read enough about this country's trouble with what are called "illegal aliens"; well that's what we are! There's no record of us, Chakotay; there's nothing! Tomorrow could be a huge disaster; the government could even get involved. They're going to search through every database; no record will be found of Kathryn Janeway or Chakotay," she shook her head. "Nothing."

"I don't have any solution for us," his voice was shaky. He wanted so badly to tell her that it was going to be all right; that they would be fine. But he couldn't. Not this time. He was just as scared as she was. "We could run," he volunteered. "But I don't want to; selfishly I don't want to leave. We have nowhere to go."

"No," she looked up at him. "We won't run. But that doesn't stop me from being terrified."

"I know," he drew her back down to the bed, laying her against his side as he held her tightly to him and kissed the top of her head. "Whatever happens, we're in this together."

"I know," she kissed his chest through his T-shirt, feeling his heartbeat, feeling the warmth radiate off his skin as she inhaled his scent. "I love you."

/

"So you two," Gregg looked back from the front seat of the truck. "How does it feel to be off the camp for a change?"

Chakotay kept his demeanour calm, nonchalant. "It's good to see some more of Indiana."

Jan laughed, glancing at him in the rearview mirror as she applied her lip balm. "From what you can see of it at least! I don't think this snow will ever melt!"

"You say that every year, honey," Gregg smiled as he patted her knee. "But then you're wishing it was winter again during those hot weeks of June!"

She grinned in response. "Don't forget to take the short cut, smart alec; I don't want to be waiting in traffic all morning. We still have to get to work!"

"I know," he shook his head, activating the turn signal; "I didn't forget! Turning now…"

Jan turned to them. "You'll learn your way around Arcadia soon. The town is lovely; a few shops, mostly specialty and collectables. But its fun to walk around, and we have one of the oldest theatres in Indiana! On weekends they show classic films for a dollar," she looked back to her husband. "It's been a while since we did that honey."

"Yes dear," the older man smiled at his wife. "Here we are," he pointed ahead.

The four of them exited the truck. It would have been comedic is she wasn't so terrified, grasping Chakotay's hand and squeezing all the blood out in her death grip. "Don't look so petrified you two! It's just the DMV not the Guillotine!"

Gregg laughed, "On the other hand…"

The inside was monotonous, a lot like the government offices back in San Francisco. Battered posters hung on the wall, telling people of the dangers of 'drinking and driving', and about something called D.A.R.E. She had no idea what that was. Dingy coloured papers littered the uncomfortable looking chairs and an array of generally disgruntled people sat, waiting expectantly and looking at a digitized red and black readout displaying a different number every couple of moments.

"Well, you two, get a number and we'll find the license replacement forms," Jan signaled to the ticket generator on the desk labeled 'information'.

Kathryn tried not to look like such a fish out of water as she walked up to the small device and pulled the paper out just as another one took its place.

"What number is it?" Chakotay asked.

"Forty nine," she stared at the readout on the wall; they were only at thirty.

"Looks like we have a good wait ahead of us," he took her hand again and led her over to the chairs where Jan and Gregg sat, looking at the paper forms in front of them.

"Okay you two," Jan handed them the paper and pens. "Just fill out what you can. You can put your current address as our house."

They did quick math; if Kathryn was forty two, she would have been born in nineteen seventy one, and Chakotay in nineteen sixty eight. He put his place of birth in Arizona, not that it mattered; they would find out soon enough that they were both frauds. They could forge basic questions, but specifics were hard to come up with; mostly due to their lack of knowledge about the time and the places.

"You two are up," Jan pointed at the readout on the sign. "Here's twenty, if I'm not mistaken it's ten dollars each."

She took the money shakily with a wary grin as they took their forms and walked up to the counter.

"Hello, how may I help you today?" The rather corpulent woman behind the counter asked drearily as she held her hand out for the two forms.

"We're, uh, here to replace a lost license," Chakotay mustered the best voice he could.

"Alright," she scanned the forms and started entering data into the computer.

Kathryn's heart was pounding so fast it was almost audible. She felt sick to her stomach, almost as bad as when she found out that her ship was stranded in the Delta Quadrant.

"What's your name, hon?" The woman scrutinized the paper, having trouble reading her name.

Kathryn cleared her throat, "Kathryn Janeway."

"Alright, and that's Kathryn with a K and a Y?"

She nodded, "Yes."

"Uhhhh," the woman looked down her glasses at the large computer screen. "Okay, here you are. Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway, Fourteen Fifty Two Marmont Street, Bloomington Indiana, is that right?"

Kathryn's blood went cold in her veins and the colour instantaneously drained from her face; that was exactly right. "Yes," she croaked, looking up at Chakotay, seeing a similar look of disbelief in his eyes.

"Alright. That's ten dollars for a replacement fee." The sound of a machine next to the woman started up with a sickening jolt.

Shakily she handed up the bill Jan had given her. "And you, sir? Are you two together?"

"Yes," his tone was calm, belying his incredulity.

"Married?"

"No," he stated.

"Are you an Indiana resident, sir?"

"No."

"So you'll be changing your state license registration?"

"Yes." He nodded his head.

"That's fine, I'll just need you to tick this box right here," she indicated with an X next to the box and handed the pen and the form back to him. "Your name is so unique," she half smiled. "That it came up here on the computer right away. Chakotay Kole, is it?"

His mouth went dry. Kole? How could he be in their system as well? None of this made any sense. "Sir?"

"Uh yes, that's me."

"And is this your permanent Indiana address?" She indicated to the paper again.

"Yes," all he could do was respond dumbly to command.

"Alright, that's another ten dollars. It'll take four to ten business days for your new license to be registered with the state, but here you go," and with that she handed them both their new cards and called the next customer.

"Well that was easy enough," Jan smiled. "I'm glad we weren't here all day! Sometimes it's so touch and go with the DMV."

Kathryn nodded her head. "Yes." Apparently she'd caught on to Chakotay's lack of verbosity.

"Well we'll take you two home," Gregg started, zipping his coat as they reentered the cold morning air. "We've got to get to work, but Jan put all the contracts in the cabin that you'll need to look at. Also, you two are free to use the camp truck; it's parked behind the mess hall, keys are inside."

"Uh thank you," Chakotay covered, eager to get back and be alone with Kathryn; eager to figure this out.

**Thanks lads!**


	32. Chapter 32

"We'll see the two of you later on!" Jan called as they barreled out of the truck. "And don't be shy about using the camp truck; we understand if you need to get out and about!"

"Thank you, Jan," Kathryn took Chakotay's hand as she stepped down from the elevation of the car. "We'll, uh, see you later."

They stood, hands clasped, as they watched the car disappear down the long driveway. "Chakotay, what's going on?" She wasted no time as she turned to him, reading his features and seeing a similar mark of bewilderment.

"I don't know. None of it makes any sense; it was too easy – even down to Arizona. And my last name?" he took her hand again and began walking through the slushy snow. "Kole? I don't understand any of it, but," he breathed a sigh. "To say that I'm almost perversely relieved would be an understatement."

"I know, but we're not from here; we weren't born in this time! There was no way that they could have possibly have had that information; and you weren't born in Arizona. We made that up!"

"Do you think there's something more sinister at work here?"

"No. I don't know…" She stopped, pulling him back to her. "This feels real; not like some holodeck projection, or alien illusion; we've experienced enough of those to be at least somewhat discriminatory. The crash was real, that I know. But I keep thinking that maybe this is some sort of payback by Braxton…"

"But you said he was apprehended?" He took a turn away from the cabin and began walking down towards the lake.

"Yes, but what I realized while I was on board the Relativity was that temporal mechanics is more complex than we can even imagine; they were playing with history – with time and with events. From what I saw they were able to go back into the past, or jump into the future and stop time, inserting variations, adding their own subtle manipulations. Having access to that technology, there's no limit to what Braxton could have done before he was brought to justice."

They walked in silence around the quiet tranquility of the lake. It was vast, but you could still see all the way across it. The water was high this morning, coming all the way up the pebbly shore, an ode to all the snow they'd been having.

There were more cabins on the other side of the water, their structures still obscured by the downy snow. The camp was truly impressive, a true credit to Jan and Gregg's hard work all these years. From what they could see and had been told, there were over 40 cabins in total, a large rec center and a mess hall with a state of the art kitchen.

They hadn't seen much of it, other than the cabins in their direct vicinity. The snow had been too deep to access the other buildings. Gregg and Jan were going give them a full tour once the snow started to melt in full, but for now all they had were glimpses and glances.

A chilly wind came from across the water, causing him to draw her closer.

"I'm not ashamed to admit that I don't know what to do with any of this. And when you think about it, it doesn't change all that much. Voyager still hasn't found us, we're still stuck here, and we still have to make a life for ourselves."

She sidled closed to him, putting her arms around his waist as they kept their gazes on the serene scene in front of them. "I know, but that still doesn't mean that I don't have questions. My address, for one – that was my address back home," she took the small card out of her coat pocket and looked at it. "And I've never taken this photo, but all the other details are right."

She reached into his pocket, removing his own. "Chakotay Kole," she read, giggling at the horrible photograph of him. "Nice picture."

"What?" He jolted, peering down over her head at the hideous photograph. "That is horrible! Let me see yours!" They traded cards and he scrutinized the tiny image on hers. "As usual, Kathryn; you look beautiful. I, on the other hand," he laughed. "Look fat and slightly inebriated."

She giggled. "Don't be so vain, Chakotay! Besides, no body's ever going to see it!"

She fell silent again, still smiling as her arms returned to his waist. "I'm still not comfortable with this, Chakotay. But I don't know what to do. I usually have a solution for most things, but I'm not ashamed to admit that right now I'm completely flummoxed. But," she let out a warm breath that billowed in the air. "You're right; there's nothing that we can do other than stay alert, while continuing to make a life for ourselves here while we still can, while there's still time."

He nodded his head over hers, kissing her hair. "Let's go home."

"Mmm," she nodded her head as they turned and moved away from the rocky shore. "It really is beautiful here. I don't remember it looking like this when we came to visit Aunt Martha."

"You always talk about Aunt Martha, what was she like?"

Kathryn laughed at the memories of the woman that came to mind. "She was my father's sister, and even though they grew up in the same house, I've never met two people so different. Dad was always serious, focused. Everything he did in life, he did with purpose. He was top in his year at the Academy, straight-laced, and driven. But Aunt Martha, now she was a free spirit. Tom sometimes reminded me of her with his quirkiness and his fascination with the past. She used all these old phrases that had died out centuries ago; she eschewed replicators and 24th century technology. She always said she wanted to live authentically. I guess the only way to describe her would be to say that she was an old soul."

"What else?" Chakotay whispered, squeezing her hand. He loved listening to her talk and tell stories. Her voice took on a different cadence; she became lighter, airier. On Voyager it was the only way he'd see Kathryn the woman, but now it was another mechanism by which he grew closer to the woman he loved. He wanted to know everything about her, every secret, every memory.

"Well let me see. Aunt Martha had the wildest curly, frizzy brown hair that she never, ever tamed but just let stand in this big," she motioned with her free hand. "Halo around her head." She chuckled at the memory. "When Phoebe and I spent the night at her home, she'd always brush our hair before we went to bed and put in in braids so it wouldn't tangle. And she'd go on and on about how much she envied our hair, how smooth it was, how _red_ it was! I couldn't for the life of my imagine why! You see, I couldn't stand my red hair. I wish you could have seen pictures of me when I was a young girl; freckles and bright red hair! Oh, Chakotay, I hated it!"

He smiled, looking down at her big grin. "I've always loved you hair, Kathryn. It's beautiful."

She shook her head, stuck in the memory. "Oh you wouldn't have liked it then. Frizzy and big! Phoebe's hair, though, was absolutely stunning." Her speech took on a different note at the memory. "Phoebe was always the 'pretty' Janeway – even when we were girls. People usually never believed that we were related. She was dainty, delicate – no freckles, porcelain features. She was my little sister and I loved her, but I also envied her terribly. In school all the boys liked Phoebe; I was just Katie Janeway. She's a little taller than I am, long auburn hair that she curls around her face. Big, captivating blue eyes…"

They stopped as he took out the small key to their home, and opened the door for her as she stepped in. She had fallen silent in her sadness for all that she had lost – not only in time, but also in distance for the past six years.

"Kathryn," he whispered, taking off her coat as he kissed her cheek. There was nothing he could say to mend the distance, or to adequately erase her hurt or confusion. He hung her coat and his and returned to her. "Kathryn," he whispered again, slowly drawing her out of her shell. "Look at me."

Her eyes were wet, but no tears came. "I-" He wanted to say so many things to her – all the things that he'd ever wanted to tell her about how beautiful she was, how she took his breath away. But he didn't know where to start; he'd begun to catalogue her six years ago – taking pictures of her in his head when she wasn't looking. "You are beautiful. No-" He sounded so corny, so disingenuous, his words so banal. "I don't know how to tell you how stunning you are – even when you're hair is mussed and snared, or," he laughed. "You haven't showered or slept in days because we'd been too busy fighting for the ship." He looked down and away before continuing. "I'm sorry, Kathryn, for all the things that have happened that took you away from the people you love. For all the memories you missed with them, for all the things you never said to them. I'm sorry."

She smiled at him, smoothing her hands up his warm chest, coming to lock behind his neck. "Thank you," she said earnestly. "And yes, I do miss them. I miss my mother. I miss talking with her over a plate of caramel brownies. She always knew the right thing to say to allay any of my frustrations or problems. And I do miss Phoebe – her quirkiness, how much she loved life, how creative she was." Her right hand came around his neck, touching the warm soft skin there before tracing the lines of his tattoo, and finally down his strong cheekbone to his intricate, full upper lip.

He smiled, dimples forming as he moved in to kiss her. He did so slowly, languidly, licking at her lips and opening her to him. He was in no hurry – he just wanted to taste her, to love her – to show her how dearly he worshipped her. But she had other ideas as her hands came down to his shirt, undoing the small buttons quickly. But then she stopped and pulled away, taking his hand and leading him to their bedroom.

She wanted to say something, but the words just eluded her, dangling only just out of reach.

"What?" He brought his hand to her face, tracing her cheeks, down the frown lines that elegantly outlined her lips.

"I can't help but feel selfish when I say those things; you've lost more than I have – had less time to say things to the people you love than I had. And I've never properly acknowledged your losses."

She pulled away, sitting on the bed as memories flooded to her. "When you lost the Valjean, sacrificed it for Voyager – I never properly thanked you. I hid my gratitude in pithy comments, or behind the curtain of command. And that day that we initiated the data stream – when you heard about the Maquis, that they'd all been lost, all I could talk about was the loss of an engagement that I truly could have cared less about. I'd meant to ask you after the Neelix's party, but I never felt the time was right. More than that, I didn't know what to say. Can you forgive me, Chakotay, not only for those times, but for the hundreds of others?"

He sat next to her, close – their thighs touching. "Yes," he whispered. "But there's nothing to forgive, Kathryn. I laid my demons to rest a long time ago," he bent slightly to kiss her cheek. "I'd lived an angry life before I met you. After I heard that my parents and sister had been murdered, my life became about revenge; I wanted revenge on Starfleet, I wanted revenge on the Cardassians, and I wanted revenge on anyone who wanted to stop me from seeking revenge. I stored up so much hate in my heart that anger and bitterness were all I dealt in. But then..." he turned her head, shifting her gaze to meet his. "Then I found my peace."

**Thanks so much everyone!**

**Becca**


	33. Chapter 33

"Where did Jan say the car was parked again?" Kathryn took hold of his hand as they left the house and locked the door.

"Gregg said it was parked behind the mess hall."

"I don't think I've been there yet. It'll be good to see more of them camp once this snow starts to finally melt!"

"I'm rather liking it," he smiled as he tugged at her hand, pulling her closer to him as they walked.

"You say that now," she wagged her finger, smiling up at him. "But you just wait – it's going to get to April and it'll still be hanging around. You won't like it so much then!"

The day was grey, the sun hiding behind a dense cloud cover, making it colder. "Over there," he pointed to a long building not far from their cabin. She'd seen it before, but never knew it was the mess hall. "He said they were parked behind it."

"Do you know how to drive a ground car, Chakotay?"

"Mmm," he nodded his head. "I remember driving something like it on Dorvan, but I don't think I've ever driven something like Jan and Gregg's before. Do you know how to drive?"

She nodded. "Yes; I remember learning when I was sixteen. Aunt Martha had a ground car. It was just about the funniest thing I'd ever seen; so tiny that only two people could fit in it. I think it was a replica of a 21st century vehicle; a mini something… but I was never any good at it and Aunt Martha was reluctant to let me experiment too much on "her baby"."

"Well," they rounded the back of the building. He sighed, "It's the same as Jan and Gregg's."

"Big."

"Mmm, well, let's give it a go. You want to try first?"

She smiled and leered at him. "Scared, Commander?"

"Not at all, Captain," he laughed. "But we know my luck with shuttles. After all, manner's dictate ladies first."

She brushed past him and opened the door. "You're a cheeky one, Commander. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Only my mother," he chuckled as he rounded the car and climbed into the passenger's seat.

"It's freezing in here!" She blew on her hands as she rummaged for the keys. "Were did Gregg say they kept the keys?"

"He didn't," Chakotay looked around. "I'm assuming they would be hidden somewhere…"

"Aha!" She cried as she pulled the items in questions from the sun visor above her seat.

He raised his brow in question. "How did you…?"

"I think I remember seeing something like it in one of Tom's holomovies… Right, key in the ignition, and turn!" The vehicle rumbled to life, a stream of cold air came blasting out of the vents.

"Ah!" He exclaimed putting his hand over the offending vents. "How do we turn these things off?"

"I don't know!" She shivered as she examined the controls on the panel.

"Oh," he pressed a button with a wave pattern. "I think these somehow turn it off. We'll have to figure all of this out…"

"Mmm, the next battle is figuring out how to properly drive this monster without killing ourselves or anyone else! Now if I remember," she scrutinized the two pedals under her feet. "One is the brake and one the gas, but which one?"

"The thicker one is the brake and the other the gas. We're going to have to back out of here first. But before that," he looked over at her and pointed at the rearview mirror. "I remember that you're supposed to adjust your mirrors."

"Oh! You're right. I almost forgot about that. Right, so angle this broad one here so that I can see out the back and these two side ones to that I can see both sides of the car." She fiddled with the controls for a moment, setting her exact specifications before turning back to him with a grin. "Well this is rather fun; much more involved than a shuttle or a hovercar, which essentially drive themselves."

"Mmm, that could go both ways as far as I'm concerned…"

She smiled, amused at their easy flowing banter. "Would you cut it out! Now what?"

"Now we have to back out of here, so put the car in reverse."

She tried to pull on the shift but nothing moved. "It's stuck."

"Oh! I think you have to apply to brake to change them."

She looked skeptical as her foot sank onto the fatter of the two pedals and she tried the gear again. "Aha! Smart man. Alright," she looked over at him and smiled. "Here goes nothin'!"

The car jolted to life in a reverse motion as she angled her body to see out the back. "Am I doing this right, you think?"

"Mmmhmm, just keep the wheel straight until we've cleared that wall and then turn the car around towards the path." He looked around for her, spotting his side of the car making sure she cleared the wall.

"Okay, now I change this again so that we're in D..."

"Remind me again why you're not the one driving?"

He just smiled. "Now, put it in D, and swing the car around."

"Goodness how does Jan do this?" She exclaimed as she turned the wheel. "It's so damn heavy!"

"You're doing swimmingly, Kathryn. Just take it slow."

"We're going at the pace of a snail's crawl, Chakotay," she rolled her eyes. "Any slower and we wouldn't be moving."

The car slowly turned round to face the road that wound through the camp. "Now, just keep going straight for now. The path is long enough, you'll get some good practice before we reach the road."

"Do you think we should leave?" Her tone was incredulous; they hadn't been off the property by themselves besides weeks ago when they hiked to destroy the shuttle.

"I don't think many people will be on the road, it'll be good practice and we'll stay close," he touched her arm. "We won't get lost."

"Alright," she sighed, applying a little more force to the brakes. Her attention was rapt, the picture of focus.

"Are you okay there?" He smiled.

"Fine."

"Your knuckles don't look it."

She let out a breath. "This is completely different than I remember it; Aunt Martha's car was tiny, and that was over 25 years ago."

"You're doing great, Kathryn." He rested his hand on her thigh as she ambled slowly down the gravel path, making small turns and adjustments for the bends in the road.

They reached the house and began down the long driveway. "Well, here goes nothin'," she sighed as they reached the end and looked upon the main road. "Which way should we go?"

His hand gently squeezed her thigh. "You pick."

"Left."

"Put your blinker on to go left," he pointed at the small bar jutting out behind the wheel.

The road had a different consistency than the pebbly unevenness of the driveway or the camp's roads. It was smoother, easier.

"How fast do I go?"

"Not sure," he looked around. "The sign there says forty five. So just apply enough gas to get up and then try and stay there."

Her confidence built more and more and she felt herself enjoying the experience, much like she had when she was a teenager. But, driving the truck was wholly different than anything she'd experienced – even as a teen. The vehicle was heavy, almost unwieldy. "Am I drifting over to your side?"

"Only a little, but not too bad. You're doing great."

"Thank you, Chakotay." She realized what he'd done; he'd made her feel like the captain again – put her in charge while he calmly supported her from the side. She'd forgotten so quickly who she was aboard Voyager. That life seemed so far now, like it was in another universe. For all she knew, it was.

"It's beautiful here," he breathed, looking out the window. "But let's head back. We have to look at those contracts that Jan gave us."

"Uh huh," she agreed, looking for a place to turn around. "I don't know anything about contract law, Chakotay. Hell I don't know anything about contracts!"

"But you do know about farms."

"An iota! We only had a few chickens and once a horse. Apples – it was Phoebe's horse, and she named her." She covered. "But these are actual Indiana farms with cows and sheep – real businesses, people's livelihoods – our livelihood!"

"We'll figure it out, Kathryn," he soothed as she turned the vehicle around.

"You keep saying that."

"And we keep doing it."

"How long are we going to be able to maintain this charade?"

"Which one?"

"The one where we belong here."

**Thanks for reading guys! Love hearing from all of ye:)**


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter rated M. Ye have been warned! **

"Spirits, Kathryn," he grated; she was blissfully relentless.

Her hands moved in a syncopated rhythm up and down his shaft as her tongue laved at the head. He was painfully hard and the pleasure that she was giving him was incredible. Every nerve in his body was sensitized to her; the feeling of her soft hair on his thighs, her other hand deftly squeezing at the flesh of his buttock.

"Shit," he usually wasn't given to profanity, but the sensations she was evoking were overwhelming. "Stop, I can-t," he didn't want to come without her, but she either wasn't paying attention or didn't care; she was in control here and he was supremely at her mercy.

Maybe it wasn't proper to say, but she loved doing this to him. It was a fantasy that she'd long indulged in; a fantasy that had been an accompaniment to her machinations on many a lonely, sleepless night. He tasted like nothing she'd ever had; the embodiment of warmth, something like cinnamon. She smiled to herself at seeing him like this; knowing he was so painfully aroused and that she was the cause of that was a flattering notion. Of course, he did the same to her.

"Ka-thrynn," his eyes were closed, one hand on her head, desperately trying not to pull at her hair and the other against the wall as he fought to find anything to ground himself – to prevent him from spurting down her throat.

But she didn't seem to mind – in fact she welcomed the idea of tasting him more intimately, of having him become more a part of her. Her tongue came to swirl around the sensitized head, which was now a painful purple colour, as she ran her teeth down the bulging vein on the underside of his shaft.

"Gods!" He looked down and that's when his self-control slipped completely. Seeing her kneeling naked before him, her hair mussed, her mouth around him, and knowing that it was his Kathryn tipped him over the edge. He came hard, spurting into her mouth. All he could do was groan, muttering profanities, thanking her, and telling her that he loved her.

He tasted like she thought he would – wonderful, addictive. But more than that, what he'd done made her feel sexy, desirable – not that he didn't usually, but somehow this was different. She'd done it once for Mark, but he'd refused every time thereafter. Her early days with Justin were filled with fumbling and awkwardness. More than that, they hadn't had much time together. Being with Chakotay, though, was a different experience. He was fiercely passionate, sensual, and to say that he loved her body – taking from and giving pleasure to it – was a gross understatement.

His orgasm seemed to linger as she released him and placed a kiss on the softening head. "Thank you, Kathryn," he whispered as she nipped her way up his body, sliding her arms around his neck and capturing his mouth in a languid kiss.

Their tongues moved over one another, as he tasted himself on her. His hands moved lightly down her body, eliciting tiny shudders and small goose pimples. They separated to catch their breath, before changing angles and meeting again. "I love you," she whispered against his lips.

"I know," he swept her up and carried her the two paces to the bed where he laid her down gently without breaking their kiss. His mouth moved away and he began to press open mouth kisses down the center of her chest, his hand coming up to caress one satiny breast while he laved attention on the other, his tongue circling the taut nipple before licking his way down her stomach.

"Chakotay," her hips started undulating of their own accord. "You don't-" all coherent thought was almost extinguished. "You don't have to." She said the words, but she was mad with wanting him.

He halted his movement at hearing her words. Sometimes he wondered if she really had no idea of her desirability; of how much he craved her. "Kathryn," he looked up, seeing the flush of arousal all the way up her neck. He moved up her body and captured her mouth again, unable to resist. "Do you know how much I need you - to taste you, to love you? I don't have to do this; I need to do this."

"Oh God," she whispered as he moved down again, slowly spreading her legs, exposing her to him completely. She was soaked with longing, and her own sweet smell was amplified, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He blew a steady stream of warm air on her exposed flesh and she bucked against him. She was aroused beyond belief, so close to coming, and he hadn't so much as touched her.

His lips and tongue met her soft flesh and she cried out, delirium whirled around her like a violent tornado, imbibing her sanity, leaving her helpless to his ministrations. His tongue circled her hardened nub, intermittently drawing in into his teeth, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh God, I'm going to come," her hands found purchase in his hair as she held him against her.

She didn't see his hand come up, two fingers slipping inside of her, curling up to find her G spot and with that she spasmed against him, her back going taut, her hands leaving his head to slam into the headboard, her mouth open, guttural moans slipping through.

Her orgasm didn't want to end as her vaginal walls clamped around his fingers as the pulsations went on and on. He removed his fingers slowly as the rigours quieted, her sticky wet come coating them.

He studied her as small tremors wracked her body, small residual moans still elicited as she recovered her sanity. He was in awe of her; this wasn't the first time they had been intimate, but this was a still new aspect of their relationship. However, he had a gut feeling that he'd never tire of seeing her like this. She was abandoned, wild, perfect. And he was hard again – desperate for her.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze as he licked his two fingers and she groaned at the eroticism of the gesture. He kissed his way up her body, following a different trail than he took on the way down. "Want to go again?"

She smiled. "God, yes. Do you have to ask?" She'd wanted him terribly for over six years; even making love a thousand times wouldn't be nearly enough.

He smiled, deep dimples coming out to show, and laughed, effusively happy. He nudged her legs a little wider and slipped in. She was so saturated that he met no friction. He groaned as he slid all the way, hitting the opening of her cervix.

"Do you feel that?" She rasped.

"What?"

"Your body was made just for mine."

That cracked any notion of self-control that he might have had. "I'm so in love with you, Kathryn Janeway." And in that moment he began to move, sliding in and out, driving her mercilessly to ecstasy's edge. She came quickly with a scream, once again clamping around him, hard. That was all it took; with one last movement he himself slipped over the edge with a moan.

"Thank you," he whispered against her hair as he collapsed off to an angle. "Thank you."

/

"If you look at me like that, Kathryn, we're going right back in that bedroom and I nominate you to tell Jan and Gregg why we've nothing done."

She sat back in her chair, putting down the thick manila folder. "Why Commander, I have no idea what you're talking about."

He smiled and huffed a laugh. "You know just what you're doing Kathryn. You used to do that to me on Voyager and I had to fight the urge not take you right on top of your ready room desk."

The mental image she conjured sent a shiver down her spine straight to her groin, eliciting a rush of liquid.

He gave her a look, letting her know what she did to him, what he was doing to her. "Point taken," she smiled as she refocused on the papers in front of her.

He changed the subject. "Gregg said that he and Jan want to start paying us as employees of the camp. I insisted on paying for rent, utilities, and gas with that money."

"Good." She breathed a sigh of relief; they'd no longer be living off of charity. They would be employed, working for a living.

Kathryn wasn't used to such aid, and admittedly it was something that made her uncomfortable. Since she became Captain and since their foray in the Delta Quadrant, she'd become used to an extra measure of autonomy. She wasn't accountable to anyone other than those around her, and she gave the orders – had the final say. But there, for the past two months almost she and Chakotay had lost that self-government somewhat. Jan and Gregg, in kindness and love, had provided everything to them: a place to live, clothes, and food. Of course, they did work in exchange, but still it didn't feel the same.

"And we'll pay them back for everything." It wasn't a suggestion.

"Absolutely."

"Well alright then," she grinned. "Back to work."

**Could not resist! See you next chapter :)**

**-Becca**


	35. Chapter 35

**Guys so sorry to have left you for so long! Had a trying break and got shingles and was just not in the right mind to write. But let's see how the rest of this plays out, shall we? Thanks to all of you who are reading and following and leaving reviews. Can't tell you how much that means!**

**-becca**

"Which three did we decide on again?" She looked up from the stack of manila folders and rubbed her eyes.

"Uh," he looked past her out the window, the ashen snowy landscape registering only peripherally. He wasn't really paying attention; it was gone one AM and they'd been sitting here pouring over contracts and bank sheets for seven hours.

To be honest, his mind had been drifting. Every once in a while he'd hone in on her rambling, voicing an occasional "mmm" or "right, right". She'd been too focused, too insular, to even notice. She was always like that; typical Kathryn to throw herself into her work, converging in so raptly on one task that she became all but dead to her surroundings.

He felt rather guilty; she was focused and engaged, while he was caught in a mental maelstrom. He wasn't prone to let his mind wander; all these weeks he'd been solely focused on ensuring their safety.

Kathryn thought that it was his normal disposition to be so compliant – it was a trait he'd always tried to express when he was around her. And to an extent, it was. But his true nature wasn't so patient and calm; he'd fought long and hard with Vulcan-like focus to get his emotions under control. He'd been tenacious in not letting his choleric tendencies have greater rule over his moods.

When he was a young boy, his father called him contrary. He was. That and stubborn. He'd chaffed at everything. Whatever his father's instructions, he planted his feet in the ground and turned a deaf ear. Looking back he mourned over that attitude; it had been such a source of contention in their relationship. Towards the end, it had gotten to the point that when he was in his teens, he made the decision to attend Starfleet Academy and he'd never looked back; he'd boarded that shuttle from Dorvan without a second glance.

He shrank at the memory of how dismissive he'd been of his family – the way he cringed when he'd half-heartedly hugged his father goodbye, so relieved to finally be getting away – to be distancing himself from 'silly traditions' and moving forward with his own life.

He knew his father been proud that day, but his pride was mixed with a sense of forlorn. He was delighted that his son had worked hard and gained admission to the Academy. But he was devastated that he'd not wanted to stay on Dorvan with him. He never said the words, but Chakotay knew.

That was the last time he'd seen him.

All of them.

He could still see them all in his minds eye standing at the shuttle station before he left. That day was the last time he hugged his mother, his sister. And now they were gone.

Lost forever.

"Chakotay?" Her voice was soft, un-accusatory. "Chakotay?" He felt rather than saw her lean forward, her face laced with an air of concern.

"She was tall," he smiled seeing her in his mind's eye. "Beautiful. Do you think it's strange?" he asked rhetorically. "To think your sister beautiful."

She grinned, laughing almost. "No. I think my sister is beautiful."

"Long black hair that fell to her waist. Big brown eyes, and a smile to light a room, like yours." He kept his gaze to his lap, imagining his family – their faces or anything about them that he could piece back together from broken fragments and shards. "'Go and find yourself, brother', she said. 'And after you do, come back. There's work to be done'."

He fell silent for a moment and waded through the memories. "What about your mother?" She whispered. He had never spoken of his family. The memories, she thought, were too painful – even decades removed, the sentiments still hung raw.

"Sekaya looked just like her – tall, captivating, loving. She was even mannered, calm. My father," the realisation hit him like a steal bullet, startling him and catching him off guard. "Called her his peace."

What he said sat between them, heavy. Kathryn never understood why he said that; why he called her his peace. She was anything but peaceful or even mannered. She was dogged, ferocious. Peace was an elusive concept that seemed to have eluded much of her life. Peace was something she associated with him – he was peace, he was calm.

"When I was a little boy, I thought my father a hero. He was big, and strong - invincible in my young eyes. I watched everything he did with the intent to do the same one day." He fiddled aimlessly with his hands. "He was so passionate about our people, about keeping tradition, about not forgetting the past. It was important, he reiterated, to never lose sight of who we were. Because the past, he said, was the key to the future."

More emotion gnawed at him as therapeutic words were spoken. He'd never told anyone all of this; there had never been anyone he wanted to tell it to. In the early days of the Maquis, B'Elanna had asked why he'd joined. He'd quickly brushed the question off, unwilling to wallow in emotions. Releasing the pain he felt would have been cathartic. But he hadn't wanted catharsis; he'd wanted revenge, and that's where he'd put his energies. It was what made him a brilliant captain and tactician, considered the best and most dangerous among everyone the scattered guerilla group.

"But something changed in me as I grew up. And that boyish wonder that I felt for my father slowly metamorphosed into this unexplainable" he motioned elusively with his hands trying to find the words to convey how nebulously he felt. "Sort of disdain, disapproval, almost embarrassment."

The frank admission flashed pain across his brow, marring the beautiful lines above his left eye. Her fingers itched to reach across the small table and smooth them; her shoulders longed to share the heavy burden he carried – to portion his load with him as he had always tried to share hers. But she stayed rooted to her seat, offering no encouragement other than her rapt attention. It was so rare that he spoke of his family. She remembered him sharing some things – a snippet here and there- when they were on New Earth. "Who taught you to cook?" She'd asked him one night while she watched him in the kitchen. "My mother." He replied. "She was a wonderful cook, from what I remember. Sometimes, if I think back hard enough, I can almost taste her vegetable soup."

They'd been down at the river one day, washing their clothing in the clear stream not far from their home. "My sister," he laughed, a big grin lighting up those beautiful cheeks. "I remember teaching her how to swim in a stream just like this back on our home world. For the longest time she refused to get in the water. She was afraid of the fish! Can you imagine? So one day, I threw her in. After that she wasn't afraid." He hadn't said any more, and she hadn't really been listening. Not just yet -not fully. Those were the early days, when she was still grumbling from the loss of her ship, her title, and when she still held a small measure of misplaced scorn for the man who had stolen her heart with too practiced of an ease.

"And then one day I just left and never came back, and before long they were gone. I can see it in my mind's eye – what was done to them, how they were murdered. Sometimes it's like I was really there." He shook his head to hide the tears, but they seemed intent on making themselves known. "Some nights I'll go to sleep and find myself on Dorvan. They're everywhere – their grey faces menacing and cruel. They go to the houses and kill the men on the spot. The women cower in the corner, crying and shaking their heads against the inevitable – the rape and the relentless torture. They look at the corpses of their fathers and husbands and wish that it was them – that death had taken them so swiftly, seemingly so kindly."

His voice broke halfway through and a steady trail of saline trailed down his golden cheeks. Similar streaks marked her own face at seeing him like this. Deep down she'd always known he was vulnerable, but he'd never shown it. He was the imperturbable one; he was the one she cast her worries on.

And in all their years of being friends, he'd never been like this with her. Not even the night he'd received word that all his Maquis colleagues had been murdered or imprisoned. No not even then. Rather he'd come to her, putting on a brave face and asked her about her own letter, whose significance wasn't enough to earn a second glance.

Her arms itched to hold him with such a fierceness that could no longer be tamped. So she bolted out of her chair and knelt by his side, her small hands coming to wipe the fat tears from his cheeks before her arms found purchase wrapped tightly around his neck. He lifted her onto his strong lap, feeling her fully against him, craving her closeness – her peace.

"I hope that she died quickly; that somehow she was spared that torture. I hope they died together," he shook his head against the softness of her sweater. "Sekaya left before they came; I don't know where she went, but she left. Someone told me that, I remember. I was going to find her when we got back – if we hadn't been captured or stranded, I was going to find her."

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his soft raven hair. She was as sorry as she could be for capturing him; but not as sorry as she should have been. Her life without him, in retrospect, would have been nothing. She would never have admitted it to herself before, but a life stranded with him in the Delta Quadrant, even a life lost out of time with him, was better than what she would have had given her mission went as planned.

Sometimes she thought about how her life would have played out if she'd raced back to headquarters after her two-week mission with her sizeable bounty. She would have stood by as he was escorted from her ship in restraints along with the rest of his rag tag crew. No doubt she would have gloated, revelling in the success of her first mission. A commendation would have come her way, straight from the admiralty, along with a pat on the back and a job well done. Contented, she would have gone home to Mark, shared with him her success. He would have been happy for her; they would have celebrated her return with a bottle of champagne followed by a round of subdued lovemaking after which he would have rolled over a fallen asleep. Still aching for something ill-defined, she would have turned to look at his sleeping form, examining his mature scholarly features and wondering what gaping piece was missing from her life. She hadn't married him in ten years because she'd known something was missing – that things weren't quite right. He'd been something safe, something to have – some sort of security. "He's so boring, Katie!" Phoebe cried to her once after a family dinner. "You need something more than what Mark can give you. Someone who's not afraid of you! Someone who won't put up with as much bullshit as you dish out. God Almighty Kathryn!" She'd exclaimed. "You're marrying a lap dog!" Kathryn had been livid at the time. She'd thought Phoebe out of line. But in retrospect, she'd been right, and they never would have been happy together.

The shaking in his body seemed to regress as they held onto one another. "I'm sorry that they died," he whispered. "I'm sorry for how I know they died. And sometimes I'm sorry that I wasn't there to die with them." He pushed her away from him to have a look at her face.

Gods she was beautiful, he thought. Terracotta freckles lightly dotted the pale skin of her cheeks and her navy blue eyes pierced his. Her eyes were wet, puffy from her tears as she held his gaze. Yes, he was sorry that his mother and father had died – that his family had been torn apart. He was sorry for the folly of his youth. "But I'm not sorry that I met you. That I fell in love with you, no matter the path that it had to take."


	36. Chapter 36

**For Bree. Happy Birthday! Love you :).**

**Hi everyone, sorry this is so late! I promise not to be away so long next time. Thanks for reading and following and leaving reviews. Love hearing from you and I appreciate it!**

**Enjoy and drop me a line :)**

/

"So was it true?"

"Was what true?" He glanced over at her, seeing the smirk she was trying hide.

"Harry and Jenny Delaney - who we've been talking about for the last minute, Chakotay! Were the rumours true?" She enunciated the last part slowly, entertainment encroaching on her strained indignation.

"Do I turn right or left on Menlo?"

She looked down at the printed off directions in her lap. "Right. So?"

"So what?"

He had been like this since they got in the car – distant, distracted. "Have you heard a word that I've said?"

"Yes, Kathryn," he glanced to the side, at the mirrors – overly cautious. "I'm just worried about these roads. They're slippery after the warmer temperatures yesterday and the freezing winds we got last night. I don't want us to get into an accident. I also don't want to get lost, or be late for this meeting!"

She rolled her eyes, sank back in her seat, and slouched. "Well, you're in a mood." She would have been amused with herself – at how churlish she was acting - if she wasn't so damn frustrated with him.

"Kathryn!"

He'd been nervous about this meeting since this morning. This was the first time they were venturing more than ten miles from the camp, and they were going to meet with one of the new farms in the area, seeing if they might be interested in forming a contract with the camp during the summer months. "What's next after Menlo?"

"Continue for 4 miles and then left on Orbach." Her tone was flat, devoid of the humour that occupied it only moments before and she angled her body away from him to look out her window.

The road was flat, desolate, running through a snowy field. The dead yellow sprigs peeking out from the icy snow told her the crop was wheat, hardly uncommon in Indiana. But it was the first time that she'd seen such an expanse. It went on for miles and miles with occasional unoccupied roads running through it in the distance.

In her time, fields this large were uncommon. Yes, by all accounts Indiana would have still been considered rural. But this – this was barren. The broad expanse of silent land that surrounded them was somewhat eerie to her. Within the confines of 'her Earth', large fields and long stretches of fallow land would have been considered a waste of space. Around 2250, the Earth's population had exploded. Advances in medical science up to that point had extended human life spans into the hundreds, allowing women to have children well into their 50s without incident. As a consequence of the booming population, more land had been converted into space for houses and apartment buildings.

But funnily enough, this was exactly how Kathryn had dreamed of Indiana.

She felt the car slow down, knowing that they'd not reached their destination she quickly angled her body back to him with a questing look on her face. The terrain changed from smooth asphalt to rocky unevenness as he pulled the truck off to the shoulder of the lonely road. "What?..."

"I'm sorry," he let out a deep breath. His brown eyes searched her blue, silently begging for forgiveness. "I'm just nervous."

Her expression softened and her muscles unclenched. "No, I'm-"

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I know." And she did. Acutely. This was still an adjustment for them both – living like this, being like this. It was unfair of her to expect him to be her calm peace all the time. He was just as human as she was – just as prone to mood swings, if not more.

"Well I am. I don't want to fight," his hand reached out and weaved her fingers around his. He still marveled at their tininess – the delicate bones, the slight veins, and lithe tendons that made up the organic matter of the woman he loved so much that he sometimes ached.

She huffed a laugh, still holding his eyes – "It wouldn't be the first time, Commander."

He laughed heartily at that as he remembered the hundreds of times they had fought – how they had harnessed that discord to their advantage and sometimes to their foil. "That it wouldn't, Captain."

"Come on," she tightened her fingers around his and nodded her head back to the road. "We don't want to be late."

/

"That's it!" Kathryn pointed ahead to a small inconspicuous side road delineated by a hand painted sign almost completely covered by snow. Red letters peaked out from the fluffy white reading 'J Acres'.

The gravelly driveway reminded her of Jan and Gregg's. A house came into view in the distance. The architecture was much the same as many of the other farmhouses in the area – four rectangular sides with a wrap around porch.

As they drew closer, however, something caught Kathryn's eye – making her smile. Hanging from the rafters on the porch were a myriad of different designs – some were recognizably wind chimes made from an array of different every day items. Some were made of forks, others spoons. Some were completely unique, their artistry evident in their jagged metal designs. They swayed and sounded beside gourd-like items made of glass. The closer they got, the more the designs became apparent.

Instinctively, they reminded Kathryn of Phoebe. Her sister was a free spirit, an artist, and her art was a reflection of that.

The summer that Phoebe turned sixteen, her parents had given her the unused garage off the side of their home to use as her workshop. She spent hours there, sometimes going in at dawn and not coming out until the wee hours of the following morning. She made the most wonderful creations out of almost anything – clay, metal, paint and canvass... She had a knack for making the ordinary extraordinary.

And these pieces before her were no different.

The front door of the home flung open and a young couple bounded down the steps, a large golden retriever running out behind them barking at the newcomers.

"That must be Ann and Andrew," He said, smiling as he parked the car.

"You must be Kathryn and Chakotay!" The woman was about Kathryn's height, though slightly shorter, with long brown hair that hung straight down her back, and striking green eyes.

"Yes," Kathryn held out her hand, a smile mirroring Ann's lighting her features. "It's so good to finally meet you." Andrew extended his own hand to clasp Kathryn's as Chakotay rounded the car to meet them.

"Well hello," his warm voice was light as Kathryn looked to the side. What she saw made her laugh; Chakotay was eye level with the couple's golden retriever, eagerly petting it while the gentle animal licked his face.

"Oh, Holden! Get over here!" Ann looked down, her face shining with exasperation and amusement all at once.

The dog looked away from Chakotay, wagging its tail and panting happily – oblivious to decorum stating that it indeed wasn't appropriate to lick strangers' faces.

"Sorry about that," Andrew extended his hand. "We haven't trained her yet. She's still young…"

Chakotay smiled down at the giddy dog running around its owners excited at the arrival of the two strangers. His smile was still firmly planted and dimples coming out to light his face, "Don't apologise," He took Andrew's hand firmly.

"Neat tattoo," the younger man scrutinized his face. "Never seen one there before."

"Andrew!" Ann swatted her husband on the chest.

"Thank you," Chakotay leaned down and reflexively reached his hand out to Ann. "Nice to meet you."

"You too, Sh-kotay."

"Chak-otay," he corrected letting her hand go.

"Sorry," she kept her gaze fixated on him. "I absolutely had no clue how to pronounce your name when I read it on email! It's Native American, isn't it?"

"Yes," he nodded his head as he reflexively reached down and took Kathryn's. "An old one too."

"You'll have to tell us all about it. How about we go inside and talk shop? I just put on a pot of coffee. Do you guys like coffee? I can always make tea, or…"

Kathryn and Chakotay grinned and shared and brief knowing glance before Chakotay held up his hand to calm Ann's qualms. "If it's possible, I think that Kathryn's blood has been replaced by coffee."  
"He's right. Please," she motioned with her hand, laughing. "Lead the way!"

/

"I noticed your artwork on the porch," Kathryn looked around the quirky kitchen, noticing touches similarly quirky to those on the porch. "Are you the artist?"

Andrew smiled and looked to his wife. "Yes," he answered. "Ann's the artist."

"Oh?" Kathryn sensed a story.

"Andrew and I moved here from Chicago about two years ago. We were both lawyers in a firm, lived in a high rise, worked 16 hours a day, went up against some of the highest profile attorneys across the country…"

"But one day… I think it was a Saturday?"

"Uh huh," Ann swallowed her coffee. "Saturday, January 11, 2012, at six am, to be exact."

"We woke up before the sun rose, like we always did and asked each other what the hell we were doing with our lives."

"It was miserable," Ann rolled her eyes. "I never saw Andrew. We worked on different schedules, had different routines. We were basically no more than glorified roommates!"

"So we quit." He shrugged and smiled. "Used the money we'd made from our hefty salaries and moved out here."

"To be farmers?" Amusement and disbelief warred for dominance in Chakotay's voice.

"Uh hunh," Ann nodded her head. "Crazy. But we're having a blast. Our farm isn't big, and we still work part-time to make extra cash. But that's why, uh, we were so excited when we got your email."

"Oh?" Kathryn took another sip of coffee.

"Right now," Ann looked at her pointedly. "The farm has just been a hobby – something we've both wanted to do since college. We never imagined that we'd be able to make anything more of it than a farm stand, or a small stall at the regional farmer's market."

"So I suppose you read over the information that we gave you?" Chakotay asked, bending down by the large dog at his feet to retrieve the manila folder from his bag.

"Extensively," Andrew answered, his posture changing and his lawerly side coming out to do business. "We understand that you're in charge-"

"Not in charge – we just work for the camp." Kathryn corrected.

"Apologies," Andrew smiled. "You work for a camp that hosts sick children during the summer. So you're looking for healthy, organic non-GMO foods from sustainable farms in the area. Am I to understand that the camp previously held contracts with Healthy Acres and Greenlawn farms?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"We know of all the farms in the area," Ann answered. "Healthy Acres and Greenlawn were both recently bought out by a corporate company called Roseno. And now they've converted most of their crop to corn and soy and no longer sell to private buyers."

"Yes," Kathryn nodded.

"So how many suppliers do you usually have for the camp?" Andrew got up, from the chair with his cup. "Anyone for a refill?"

"Mmm," Kathryn handed him her empty cup, while the other two declined silently still cradling their warm cups.

"Cream? Sugar?" He asked with his back to them as he rummaged in the large refrigerator.

"No, no," Kathryn's voice was adamant. "Black."

Ann grinned, mock shivering and scrunching her nose. "I don't know how you drink it black, Kathryn!"

"Neither do I," Chakotay laughed, holding Kathryn's gaze.

"I don't know how you poison it with cream and sugar. You know the only reason I ever had cream and sugar in my rea-" she caught herself. "Office, was for you."

"I know," he whispered, eyes open and affection readily legible in the obsidian depths.

Ann looked on at the couple. There was something between them – they were different, obscure, yes. But their connection was like nothing between two people that she'd ever seen or experienced. It was like a third entity inhabited the room when these two were together. Some living, breathing entity.

"So you two met at work?" She queried, nosy to learn more about the two strangers in her kitchen.

"Yes," Kathryn looked away, trying to cut off the line of questioning. They had to be careful. They hadn't settled on what they would tell people about them – where they met, who they were...

Jan and Gregg let them be as just Kathryn and Chakotay. But other people would ask more questions, probe deeper.

"Oh?" Andrew handed Kathryn a hot fresh cup of coffee. "Here at the camp?"

"No," Chakotay answered quickly, cutting off the line of questioning and redirected them. "We usually have about two or three farms that supply the camp. We were only getting a small crop from Greenlawns – maybe 12 pounds of vegetables per week. And from Healthy Acres even less. I think they did it as a service to the camp itself. We also have a contract with Blue Fields, and they said that they'd continue this year as well."

"Blue fields," Andrew sat back. "Over on Westlawn, yeah. George is a good guy. He helped give us our start. Is he your main provider at this point?"

"Mmm, for the summer months – it looks like it," Chakotay answered. "But it's not going to be enough. Registered so far, we have about 200 campers for the summer. 20 kids per week for ten weeks, about."

"When do camps start?" Ann asked, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes.

"Early June and it runs to mid September," Kathryn replied. "And this year we've changed the meal plan to something a little more vegetarian."

"Oh?" Andrew sipped his coffee.

"It's healthier for these kids, and the price of meat is going up," Chakotay answered.

"Oh no argument there. We switched our diets back in college-"

"After the freshman fifteen!" Ann laughed, looking at her husband.

"Also remember the meat on campus?" Andrew laughed and mock shivered. "You'd think with all that tuition money they could have served something at Georgetown better than mystery meat, but…"

Chakotay looked over at Kathryn; they were both lost. Freshman fifteen? Georgetown?

"Speaking of vegetarians," Ann looked down at her wristwatch. "Would you two like to stay for dinner? It's vegetarian, but…"

"Umm…" Kathryn fumbled.

"Oh come on!" Ann persuaded. "I promise it's not terrible. I was just going to heat the lasagna in the oven. Please stay, we haven't had people over in the longest time!"

"She's right," Andrew coaxed. "It's just been us and the dog all winter."

"We'd love to," Chakotay winked at Kathryn.

"Yes," she nodded her head. "We'd love to. And Chakotay here is a vegetarian so you're in good company."

"Oh excellent!" Ann got up from the table and headed to the fridge. "Honey would you put the oven on 350?"

"So, Kathryn," Ann wheedled. "Chakotay hasn't converted you to the dark side yet?"

She laughed. "The dark side? No." The truth was that he'd never made an issue of it. It was just a part of who he was – he had never tried to change her or made her feel bad for what she ate.

"I'm just happy when she eats," Chakotay smiled, taking her hand under the table and squeezing her fingers when no one was looking.

"I remember those days!" Ann raised her voice over the din of the glass casserole dish coming in contact with the steel oven rack. "That's the one thing I miss about working in the law firm – my waistline!"

Andrew rolled his eyes, coming back to the table with colourful plates, forks, knives and napkins. "My tiny wife is delusional."

"Don't listen to him," she pecked him on the cheek before she sat back down. "So, what crops are you looking for?"

"Whatever's in season – broccoli, asparagus, carrots, corn – whatever you're growing…"Chakotay answered. The dog was still down by his feet, breathing warmly. He smiled, never having had an animal he was enjoying the experience. Maybe in the future he and Kathryn would have a dog, maybe – he caught himself. They were, by definition, living in the present. Having knowledge of what was coming somewhat tamped down their desires, their habit of planning for the future.

If history repeated itself, there would be no future. And it was their job to interfere with the future as minimally as possible.

They'd made that decision weeks ago. But the dull ache that he and Kathryn would never have children together still tugged at him. For as long as he'd known her, he'd wanted a family with her. Over the years, as hard as he tried to deny it and suppress them, the dreams and the desire to have a family with Kathryn was never far from his mind. Even when they fought, when she made his blood boil in his arteries, when he was so angry that he didn't even want to be in the same room with her, those desires were still there and never far from his heart.

They decided that to bring a child into a world that was on the brink of destruction would be unfair. But foolishly and selfishly even that knowledge couldn't squelch his sadness that she'd never be pregnant. He remembered back two and a half years ago to when Q had come on board and tried to entice her with an offer of motherhood. Then she'd been fed up, frustrated with Q's antics. But he'd seen it in her eyes – how much the request affected her, how much she wanted a child. And that he'd never be able to give her that tore at him and ate him from the inside out.

He thought about it constantly, against his better sense of control. When he ran his fingers over her nipples, he thought of a little brown baby cradled there, suckling. When his semen washed against her womb, he thought of it. He thought of it when he lay with her at night, his arm draped around her naked waist. He wished that he could feel a child there, see her swell with a tangible product of their love.

He dreamt of their children once – saw them in a vision quest. It had been brief, the most fleeting image. At the time, he'd chocked it up to an illusion, something that he'd concocted to please himself. But over the years that image never left him. Other experiences in his vision quests came and went – lessons were learned, problems sorted through, and then filed away. But that image stayed with him. It kept him sane, it kept him faithful to her, not that he needed incentive.

Andrew's voice brought him back. "Well, like I said we're small," he motioned with his hands. "Small/medium – 48 acres – and most of that is vegetables and a little soy. And we also have several green houses that are pretty damn productive in the summer months. We had a few glitches with bugs last season, but we solved that around August just our tiny crop of cabbage was coming in…"

"We don't know how much Blue Fields is going to be able to contribute this year-" He regrouped and no one but Kathryn noticed his lapse in concentration.

"Mmm," Ann nodded her head, interrupting him. "They were talking about signing on with Roseno as well when we spoke with them last. Sadly," she shook her head. "The family farm is becoming somewhat of a dying art. It's all bureaucracy really – these larger companies don't want any competition so they buy out even the smallest of farms, putting them on hefty contracts, but barring them from participating in their local communities."

Kathryn shook her head in response just as a loud beeping rang through the room.

"Oh!" Ann jumped up. "Dinner. I hope you two brought your appetite because I don't want any leftovers!"


	37. Chapter 37

"More coffee?" Jan held up the pot in Kathryn's direction.

Kathryn smiled cheekily. "Is that even a question?"

"Sorry, dear – forgive an old lady. I forgot I was speaking with Miss Dark Roast 2014."

"Ah!" Kathryn held up her hand with a laugh. "The year's far from over, Jan. I might find a roast that I like better. Although," she took a long sip, savouring the odour and the fine taste of the complex brew. "I have to admit that I am partial to the Sumatran. Might be my favourite so far…"

Jan laughed as she added another healthy drop of cream to her own cup. "Does Chakotay know you make love to your coffee cup like that?"

"For years," she grinned. "I think at this point he's just accepted the fact that he's the third wheel when it comes to my relationship with coffee."

"So, all joking aside, what did you two think of CJ Acres?"

"Ann and Andrew – the owners," Kathryn motioned. "Are absolutely lovely. From what we saw and from what they told us the other day, they're very excited about working with us. Of course, they're new. But from what Chakotay and I took away, they seem like a great group to work with. And with the output that they recorded the year before, they should be a good asset if we keep our contract with Blue Fields."

"Good," Jan nodded her head and stifled the yawn that was trying to make its way through. "So in a couple of weeks, get everything signed with them and then we cross our fingers that they get a good yield this summer. If not, we're going to have to dip into camp reserves and buy from a supplier – which I don't like doing."

"Okay," Kathryn added to her mental to-do list. "And what about the welcome packs?"

"Oh!" Jan nodded again – still trying to muffle a yawn insistent on making its presence known. "Good woman! The information for the printers is on the computer-"

"I already found the file – I'll order 250 from the printers. That'll give us a little leeway to make last any last additions in case some of the campers pull out."

The older woman nodded again, solemnly this time. "It does happen. Some kids don't make it to camp. But," she forced a smile. "It's something for them to look forward to."

Kathryn nodded. "Is there anything else?"

"No. Not for right now. Oh," Jan looked at her. "There is one thing; you two need to open an account at the local branch so that Gregg and I can start depositing money directly into your account." She rummaged down on her knees in her purse, cursing under her breath to find her intended target in the midst of the coupon, old note, gum and candy wrapper rubble. "Found it!"

Victorious, she produced a small rectangular piece of paper. "Your first paycheck to deposit into your account!"

Kathryn reached out almost tentatively to take the small page. It felt odd; in her in own time, money was nearly a forgotten, passé concept. Of course, the acquisition of wealth was still an aim for some, but not many. No longer were people driven by the greed or avarice, or the drive to become rich. Of course, the Ferengi were an exception. But most were driven by the thirst for knowledge or the hunger for exploration.

In Starfleet, she'd earned credits for the occasional splurge. But her basic needs had been provided for – food, clothing, transport, anything really. It was only when she came to live in this time that she realized the necessity of money.

It had only been in the last two months that they'd been here that she finally came to understand the paragraphs upon paragraphs in her history books that had expounded upon the dollar, the silver and gold-based currency that had essentially run the world and governed people's day to day lives: their social status, their ability to travel, their ability to access education, etc.

She was sure that if Jan and Gregg hadn't been so kind to them, their situation – money wise – would have been a lot worse off. She'd read stories on the Internet – horrifying tales of extreme poverty. And though technically, she and Chakotay were poor, they were cared for. And for that, although she felt guilty, she was still extremely grateful.

"Kathryn?" Jan's voice woke her from her lull. Startled, she jumped a little and quickly recoiled her hand from the piece of paper.

Jan laughed. "It's not going to bite you, dear. Here, take it. You've earned it!" She stuffed the folded sheet into Kathryn's hand. "Now, Gregg and I have a joint account and a business account at Chase bank on Donnellan Avenue right by Target. I think it's the main branch for this area. We'll put you two on the business account once you've your own opened. Alright?"

"Uh, sure, Jan. Thank you."

"So," An old look twinkled in Jan's eyes. "Have you and Chakotay anything planned for Valentines Day?"

Valentines Day? The memory of the last one she'd spent made her cringe. When Neelix first came on board, he'd made it his mission to scope out as many holidays as he could, throwing parties at any opportunity to keep ship-board morale up. They'd been well into their eighth month in the Delta Quadrant when Neelix had sent out the ship-wide invitation for, what had he called it? A night filled with romance amongst the stars… Ugh even the slogan was dreadful!

She'd been bound to go – part by her duty, and part by Neelix's dogged insistence. If she was honest, it was the latter and the pitiful groveling that ensued if she didn't make an appearance that motivated her to leave the relative sanctity of her quarters for most of those functions.

She remembered the affair vividly. Neelix had, of course, enlisted the help of Tom Paris – who, if it were possible, had gaudier taste than Neelix. The mess hall was draped in all an array of rich red and pink fabrics, huge burgundy hearts and pink balloons hung suspended from the ceiling. Pink themed drinks were served, heart shaped foods were laid out, the whole nine yards…

She felt herself smiling at the memory of the way Chakotay looked. He'd worn a simple pair of brown slacks and one of his favourite shirts. She'd memorized his favourite shirts when they were on New Earth. If she remembered, that time he wore the salmon coloured number tastefully tucked into the tan pants. Of course she'd worn her uniform. At that point she wasn't yet comfortable around the crew, or really with herself, to dare to wear something – dare she say sexier? Or by rights, at least something casual. In those simple black pants and matching tunic, she felt some sort of power – a measure of protection; she remained the captain – everyone knew who she was and what the boundaries were when she was wearing her command suit. She hadn't known how to reconcile the captain with Kathryn. To be honest, she never really did learn. And now… Well now it was too late…

She remembered standing almost pitifully off to the side the whole night, watching him out of the corner of her eye. No one came up to her the whole hour and a half that she was there other than Chakotay, Neelix, Kes, and Tom Paris.

She remembered how filled with wonder Kes was with the whole arrangement. She thought it so sweet to see the room so decorated. It was something of an event for her and Neelix – something for them to share together in those early days before their romance died into an abiding friendship. Tom Paris was the only member of the original crew who hadn't been afraid of her, or who at least didn't hate her at that stage. And Chakotay, she had been watching him since she came in the room. She remembered that he'd been talking with Seska in the corner when she'd entered. She'd only been standing on the opposite side of the room for a moment when he caught her eyes. His face was deep, intense. She could tell his conversation was heavy, involved. But he'd managed to smile at her, his face relaxing – his dimples coming to peek out and weaken her knees before he returned to the petulant, insistent young woman in front of him.

"I'm sorry," he'd whispered when he found her later.

"For what?"

"I should have come over sooner."

"You were busy."

"I shouldn't be too busy for you."

"Chakotay…" There had been a warning in her voice.

"No," he held up his hands with a cheeky smile. "You're right. Enjoy your night, Captain."

That had been it. That had been the last Valentines party she'd attended – the last one he'd attended as well. They never brought it up again, and she doubted that he even remembered it. Their relationship for the past six years was a lot like that conversation – saying a lot with words that held no meaning; both never saying what they wanted to. Now, though, things were different.

"Uh," she shook her head. "No. Nothing usually." But maybe this year…

"Oh?"

"It's just… we didn't… it's never been…"

The older woman laughed. "Goodness gracious, Kathryn! Relax! I just thought that it would be something the two of you would enjoy." She downed the last of her lukewarm coffee and straightened her back. "Well I'm off to work. Have any of the medical students submitted their applications?"

"We've gotten a few through the website – about 40 or so. Should I wait to review them with you?"

"No, no. You can go ahead. I've got to get Gregg – we have to leave for work in fifteen minutes. Gregg!" She yelled outside the kitchen porch door. "Greggory, where are you?! We've got to get to the hospital for rounds in twenty minutes!"

Kathryn smiled as she came up behind Jan in time to see Chakotay and Gregg bounding out of the barn opposite the house. He caught her eye and smiled at her, big dimples blinding even at the distance. "That man," Jan turned around. "And those dimples, Kathryn – God Almighty. He's one helluva catch."

"Mmmm," she nodded, keeping eye contact – smiling a silly, big goofy grin. "That he is."


	38. Chapter 38

"What did Jan have to say?"

Kathryn grinned and took his hand as they walked back to the cabin together. "What were you and Gregg doing in the barn?"

He tugged at her brought her closer to him. The ground was icy – a testament to the cold front that swept through the Midwest over the past week and a half – a record apparently. They walked close -rigidly, carefully - buoying each other from falling.

He laughed. "Planning projects to renovate the barn – maybe put it back into use for something other than a storage shed for tools. Dreaming about the addition to the rec centre among other things."

"Jan," Kathryn slipped, but was caught in strong arms before her bottom met with the cold, hard ice underfoot. She grinned up at him as they continued their cautious amble before she reached into her pocket to produce the small cheque. "Our first paycheque."

He stopped. "Paycheque?"

"Mmmhmm," she nodded her head and handed him the slip. "We're to go into town and open a bank account and deposit it. She wants to put us on the Camp's business account as well."

He said nothing in response. "Chakotay?"

He was caught in his own thought as he looked at the paper. "It's real, isn't it?"

An elegant eyebrow quirked at the ambiguous question, "Of course it's real. What are you talking about?"

"This," he gestured between them and all around them. "Money, cheques, bills, licenses… This is our life."

She bowed her head and nodded. Yes. This was their life. She would never be Captain Kathryn Janeway again; he would no longer be Commander Chakotay. They no longer commanded a Starfleet vessel across the Delta Quadrant; they'd left 148 people without a command team. They left friends, comrades – people they loved and cared for. The truth wasn't new, but it was always startling when she was reminded of it. "Yes," she met his eyes. "This is our life."

He turned, tugging at her hand again and continuing to walk. "What are we doing today?"

"Well," she took a deep breath and started going over the mental checklist she'd made for herself. "We have to go into town and open the account. Jan gave me another envelope of papers she said we'd need at the bank. We need to buy groceries because the only thing we have in the kitchen is pasta and if we eat anymore of it, I'm going to have to repli-" she caught herself and laughed wryly at her mistake. "_Buy _myself a new pair of pants. And then we have to go to the printers – some place called Kinkos, and print off pamphlets and start putting together welcome packets. And if we have time we need to get a head start looking at the applications that the medical students submitted for counselor positions…"

He nodded again. "Full day," he added drolly.

"Unh huh," she hugged his arm as they reached their front door.

/

"Jan asked me what we were doing to _Valentines Day _this year – oh! Take this right. I remember Jan taking it when we went into town a few weeks ago. She said something about a short cut on our drive there."

"This turn? Valentines Day?" He questioned rhetorically as he slowed down and put his blinker on for the turn.

"I'd have forgotten about it altogether if she hadn't mentioned it."

"When is it again - do you remember where we go next?"

"Right after the stop sign so get over. This Friday, the fourteenth."

"Is that it over there?" He pointed to a long four-line street dotted on both sides with shopping centres.

"Uh huh," she pointed. "And there's the bank."

"Bank first?" He turned the car into the next lane anticipating her response.

"Might as well."

"So what did you tell her?" He coaxed, trying to conceal his wicked smile.

"Nothing salacious!" She guffawed hitting his arm. "I didn't say anything. We don't usually _do anything_."

"Which bank?" He looked around, not knowing what a bank looked like.

"Chase."

He easily spotted the raised sign off in the distance. "We've never been in the position to _do anything,_ Kathryn, much as I would have liked to." He grumbled.

She recoiled, the guilt of their separation over the years hitting her squarely in the gut. He didn't have to look over at her to know his callous comment had hurt. "I'm sorry, Kathryn." He whispered as he pulled the car into the near-empty lot at the bank and turned off the ignition. "That was out of line. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. You're right." She sat back in her chair and angled her body towards him, gesturing as she spoke. "There I was, year after year, alone in my quarters with a bottle of wine, avoiding Neelix's party…"

"_Kathryn" _He coaxed, taking her hand.

"Drinking myself into a stupor, feeling sorry for myself, wanting you from the other side of the bulkhead, wasting time, wasting our energies, our feelings… God it seems so stupid now!"

"Kathryn!" He said firmly as he warmed her colder hands in his. "Stop. It was a careless comment and I'm sorry. We don't need to go over this again. I understand why you kept your distance and I respect that. Let's just forget I said it."

"But it's true," her eyes were clear as her gaze met his. "And you're still angry with me for it. Heck I'm still angry with me for it, I-"

"Shhh," he smiled placing two gentle fingers over her lips and silencing her with a dimpled smile. "I'm not angry. It's just that sometimes I see what we have now, and how happy I am and I just wish that…"

"We hadn't wasted so much time. I know."

"Yes. No. I don't know. I'm not completely blameless in this either. I could have pushed harder, made more of a case. But then I think that things are as they're meant to be."

"If things were as they were meant to be then we wouldn't be here; nobodies living off the good graces of others – two starship captains stranded 300 years out of time working at a camp waiting for the world to end!" It was ludicrous every time she said it!

"I know it's ridiculous," he conceded. " And if you'd told me this was going to happen even just three months ago I would have laughed at you."

"Us becoming lovers or us being stranded in 2014 working at a camp?" She joked.

"Both," he grinned. "But since our foray into the Delta Quadrant, I've learned to 'expect the unexpected'. And, to be honest, _I'm enjoying myself_. Being no one for once, having time with you away from the ship, being able to touch you, kiss you whenever I want, hold your hand, tell you that you're beautiful," He smiled cheekily. "Make love to you at all hours of the day… well that's been a dream of mine since I met you."

Kathryn smiled at him - a real smile – the one she reserved only for him. "Thank you."

"Come on," he nodded his head towards the bank as he opened the car door. "The sooner we finish here the sooner we can go home and…" a wicked smirk finished the rest of his thought.

Kathryn laughed heartily at that, releasing his hand and rolling her eyes as she got out of the car. "Chakotay! Do you think of anything else?"

"Where you're concerned? Let me think." He feigned a moment of deep thought as he took her hand again. "No."

"Well hold your horses; we've got a good bit to do before any of that. And just so you know," she moved close and whispered. "I don't think of much else either where you're concerned, Commander. _Never have_."

**Thanks for continuing to read everyone!**


	39. Chapter 39

"Wow."

"I told you. Everything in one place."

"I don't think I've ever seen so much pink…" He motioned nebulously with his hands as he stared wide-eyed around the department store.

He remembered her describing the place in their first week after she went shopping with Jan. He was fascinated by all of this: the sight of so many goods in one place – the variety, the smells of popcorn, fried foods, and coffee lingering deliciously in the air, the people milling about to and fro talking and laughing. It was an anthropologist's dreams come true – to live in the past, totally submerged.

History books and databases in their time glossed over much of this era and focused more on the classical side of history – history that had been documented over and over for thousands of years. Of course, the pivotal events of this time that shaped the world were discussed in depth. But the day to day life and the every-day people and their lives – those were what Chakotay found fascinating. Those stories were what drew him in and captivated him.

Books and time lost the stories of people and allowed conjecture to take the place of facts. Kathryn had run into that quagmire last year when she dejectedly found out that her family's tall tales about her great ancestor Shannon O'Donnell hadn't actually been all that great.

And then suddenly an idea came to him that he quickly filed away.

"Or quite so many hearts!" She laughed, noisily taking the rickety cart.

His hand found gentle purchase on her side, indicating to give him the shopping trolley. "Can you imagine if we gave Neelix access to this many kitschy decorations – sans replicator rations?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "I don't even want to think about it; he'd likely have decorated the hull and my ready room!"

"Where to, Captain?" He chuckled looking down at her.

"Well now just the basics – we are still on a budget, Commander. Let's start with food."

They pushed the trolley down the aisles, heading towards the back with a sign indicating grocery. All the colours, the decorations – the visual stimulation, the people they had to dodge – it was overwhelming. "Chakotay?"

He looked back to the sound of her voice; she'd stopped and was looking at him. "What?"

"This way," she pointed through an aisle filled with garish looking packaging decorated with hearts and corny expressions of love.

"Sorry," he gave her a grin. "I'm like a – what's the saying Tom always used?"

"Kid in a candy store," she laughed. "I knew you'd like this."

The grocery aisle was again something to behold. "I don't think I've ever seen so much food that I would actually eat in one place since before we were in the Delta Quadrant!"

"It is nice not to have to eat leola root anymore," She sighed, taking the bottom of the cart and leading it over to a pile of green apples.

"These?"

"Mmm," he nodded his head. "Just be glad Neelix didn't entice you with his homemade leola root anti-theta radiation remedy."

"What?" She plopped several apples into a bag, knotted the top in one fluid automatic movement, and held it up for his approval.

He nodded with a grin as she plopped it into the cart. "You remember the damaged Malon freighter that we met a year and a half ago?"

"Uh huh – what else do you want for fruit?"

"Bananas – but choose the green ones. Well before we went over to the freighter he cooked up some leola remedy that he claimed saved his life when he was exposed to the radiation before he came on board."

"Neelix and his leola root… These?" She held up a sufficiently green bunch of bananas. "I never knew whether to believe those dubiously extravagant stories. Having suffered the intestinal aftershocks of eating it, I started to seriously doubt Neelix's high praise of that dreaded root!"

"Mmm," he laughed knowing full well what she was talking about. "Well you should have seen and smelled this concoction. Even Neelix had trouble swallowing it!"

She chuckled leading the cart again. "What do you want to cook for dinner this week?"

He leaned over the carriage and winked at her with an evil glint in his eye. "Aren't I supposed to be asking you that?"

"Do you want to survive?" She deadpanned. "I think we've proven the only thing I can make with some degree of success is coffee and cereal."

He laughed out of at that. "That's right. And I think we've also proven that you can, in fact, burn water."

"Mmmm, I'm hopeless." She nodded and leaned in close to him. "So Chakotay, what do you want to cook for dinner this week?"

It was stupid, silly, banal even. But it was sometimes the smallest moments that caught him off guard – the fleeting moments that were spent by with this woman doing the simplest, most human things. She was breathtaking like this - with her hair in a messy knot on the top of her head, no makeup, and one of Jan's old coats. She had outsmarted the Borg, the Krenim, and all other array of hostile, cunning aliens. She could change a relay as quickly and as efficiently as B'Elanna. She could outthink think tanks… – but here she was with him, shopping for groceries on a budget, and no one looking at them would know different.

She didn't belong here – with him, like this. Even if they were to be stuck here in 2014, she deserved something more than this, than what they had.

"Well?"

"You're beautiful," he smiled. "Vegetable soup."

"And you're delusional," she rolled her eyes, still smiling – knowing there was more brewing behind beautiful obsidian eyes than he would let on. "Do you know what you need?"

His eyes scanned the array of vegetables in front of him. "I'll be right back."

"Well hurry," she pulled her coat around her small body, the chill from the refrigeration under the displays seeping into her clothes. "It's cold!"


	40. Chapter 40

"People are staring, afraid to ask, but also afraid not to."

She didn't have to think through the ambiguity. "The tattoo..."

Kathryn turned to look at him as he kept his attention on the busy dark road. She'd thought about it when they first came, but initially paid the contemplation no more than a fleeting second. In their own time, looking what people today would call"odd", or being "quirky" was accepted as part of the norm. Between Nausicans with crude, lion-like faces, blue Bolians, huge-eared Ferengi with rasor teeth, tall-stately Vulcans and jagged, outlandish Klingons – humans learned to see past the physical. That, or they'd just gotten used to it over centuries of exposure and conditioning.

Chakotay's tattoo had never been given a second glance. It was an indelible part of him – a harbinger, some physical testimony of an oath he made to the people he loved and lost, and the mission that he'd made his life about. She couldn't imagine him without it; sometimes she dreamt that he'd been born with sweeping curved lines over his eye. His tattoo was the first thing about him that she'd fantasised about. Her fingers had prickled with craving to touch those lines and to follow them with the tip of her tongue as if tasting the dark ink through his honey skin. But here, those lines were out of place and they drew questing eyes.

"I know," she whispered. "But," she looked at him; only catching is strong outline in the darkness illuminated by the quickly fleeting lights of passing cars. "That tattoo is a part of you – it's part of who you are. It doesn't matter what people think, or if they stare."

He snorted wryly at the packaged saccharine of her statement. "But it is, Kathryn! We're not supposed to interfere with this time – we're not supposed to be conspicuous!"

"Chakotay," she raised her hands in peace, her voice was stern, quieting him and his subdued rage. "Calm down." She often tended to forget that underneath his unruffled demeanour was that angry Maquis warror.

"They all stare and try not to mention it, but it colours their perception of me – like today at the bank! I tried to brush it off, but then it happened again at the store when we went to pay. And it keeps happening – people not trusting me, not wanting to help me. I can see it. Normal people don't have a huge tattoo on their face, Kathryn! It just isn't done here – not by anyone other than gang members, social miscreants…" He ran out of steam, exasperated and then hand that he'd been gesturing wildly with fell noisily back onto the wheel.

She sighed thinking of their debacle at the bank. The young man assisting them had taken one look at Chakotay and had immediately become skeptical and belligerent and made what appeared to be an easy, quick process something long and painful. There were side glares, whispers whenever they went out – especially in a town as small and rural, isolated even, as this. And it happened every time they went out.

Gregg and Jan were the exception – broad minded, and trusting to a fault. But they weren't the custom.

"I know, Chakotay," she whispered plaintively, placing a warm hand gently on his thigh. "I know."

/

He hadn't spoken the rest of the drive home, and she'd let him be. That was three hours ago and he still hadn't spoken, sitting silently in the chair across from her as he stared at his lap, unmoving, lost in thought.

He got up and disappeared into the bedroom. She followed him with her eyes and went to follow him as soon as she heard the rummaging. "Chakotay?" She stepped into their bedroom. "What's going on? What are you doing?"

She found him sitting on the floor in the small space between the bed and their closet. "What are you-" she immediately spotted dermal regenerator in his hand. "I need to get rid of it, Kathryn. It doesn't have a place anymore. Like so much of our lives," he whispered. "It doesn't have a place anymore."

Her chest palpably ached – her heart breaking in two.

"Oh Chakotay…" Kathryn fell on the floor beside him, her lithe arms surrounding him, a kiss planted in his hair. "Please don't do this." She shook her head against his, breathing him in and kissing his temple, letting her lips linger. "You don't ha-"

"Stop." He turned to look her squarely in the eye. "A long time ago I made a promise and I honored it. I kept this tattoo for fifteen years now and to the best of my ability, I've live up to the ideal that it represents; I've kept the memory of my father and my family and I've tried to become the son that my father would be proud of. Those things are what matter, not ink on my forehead."

Tears streamed down her cheeks at his fervent words and her arms wrapped themselves around him once more. "Your father would be proud of you," she kissed his cheek. "And he knows."

He turned his face against hers and nodded as he caught her mouth against his. He turned his body without breaking contact and coaxed her lips open as his tongue slipped effortlessly to tangle with hers. She moaned realizing how desperate she was for him, pouring herself into him, becoming more ardent. "I love you," he pulled away, licking his lips and savoring her lingering taste.

"Will you?" He handed her the dermal regenerator but she seemed reluctant to take it – to erase a faucet of the man she loved. It didn't seem right and for a moment she was filled with a sudden gush of rage at the unfairness of the act that he felt compelled to commit.

"Are you-"

"Just do it, Kathryn." He smiled weakly as he placed the anachronous device in her hand.

It felt strange to hold this again. What used to be a commonplace tool now felt foreign in her hand. Its weight was heavy, its body cool – the red light that it emitted peculiar to her eyes.

"Please." He kissed her cheek and sat back expectantly as she raised her hand with the device to his handsome face. Like riding a bike, she quickly manipulated the setting and scanned it over the sweeping cerulean lines on his temple. And without any preamble those loved and carefully drawn strokes and contours disappeared.


	41. Chapter 41

"Chakotay!"

He heard his voice outside the barn over the din of the electric saw. The repetitive, measured movement of the saw was soothing, much like he found shoveling snow.

Woodworking, being able to make something tangible and useful with his hands was a satisfaction that he'd gotten to indulge so few times since his youth. As he watched the calculated movements of his hands while they manipulated the saw to cut the pieces of wood, he couldn't help but be drawn back to the last real time he'd done work like this; New Earth. New Earth was the last time he'd made things like this.

For a good while after they left, he thought about it non-stop. They weren't there for long, but long enough for him to miss it when they left. He had hated Tuvok for taking them from there – for being brave and for risking the lives of the crew just to save them. It was irrational anger, misplaced. But sometimes he couldn't help it.

Their isolation on that lush planet was the happiest that he had been since… well before now he didn't remember being that happy. It had just been him and the woman he loved, alone, able to spend a lifetime being together, talking, and getting to know one another. She was his alone to admire, to love, to cherish; and she hadn't been his captain, just his friend. There she had been free of guilt, free of responsibility – unfettered and alive.

She'd been so guilty last evening and all night he regretted asking her to remove his tattoo. He should have been the one to erase those lines – the onus – not her.

Tears had streamed from both their eyes as she put away the dermal regenerator – hers because she felt culpable for his action, and his because… in hindsight he didn't know why. Maybe because that tattoo had been a large part of his identity; it made him mysterious - gave him an elusive aura of fearlessness. It distinguished him and, in his own mind, it comprised the dark image that he had, at one time, wanted to project.

He had taken that mark there because of his father, grandfather, and the men who came before them. Tradition dictated that he take it when he was twenty, but he'd been rebellious, contrary. If his parents hadn't been murdered and his people destroyed, he doubted he would have ever taken it. That disdain would have lived on and he would have lived the rest of his comfortable life in careless ambivalence of his people and their traditions.

_"Are you sure, Commander?"_ Namimbay stood behind his desk, flanked on either side by impressive bay windows that looked out over the academy. Like a holodrama, the day had been overcast, raining and thundering intermittently. On any other day he would have been excited about the rain; dependably, it signaled the end of the mild winter, the beginning of a new season. He knew that when he left his classes he'd walk out onto the pristine campus and breathe in the beginnings of spring – the herald to a beautiful summer. But today he felt none of that nostalgia, none of that anticipation or prospective enthusiasm.

One of the Maquis, Sveta, had been waiting outside the doors after his ten thirty lecture. He read the expression on her face before she'd said the words, "they're gone. Dorvan is gone. They didn't leave anyone."

He'd been on the fence before that. His loyalties had lay with Starfleet, the organization he'd given his life to. He put faith in the process- the negotiations, the peace talks...

Sveta came to him five months before – asking him to join the rebel group. He'd immediately said no – absolutely not. Leaving Starfleet was unacceptable. He worked too hard to get where he was and he was happy. Leaving his comfortable life to be a rogue guerilla combatant was the absolute last thing he had any interest in doing.

But he'd handed in his resignation that very afternoon in a fit of focused rage and immediately after he'd taken the mark and sworn to take revenge on the grey-skinned bastards who'd taken all the people he loved. All the people who he'd never said goodbye to. All the people he'd never apologized to. Everyone who he didn't say 'I love you' to nearly enough.

But it was over – that part of his life was over; he was no longer Chakotay the Maquis Warrior out to avenge the deaths of his people. It was fitting the mark should go too; it was fitting that he grow up, move on, and erasing those lines – perhaps that was his first step.

"In here, Gregg!" His voice billowed into the cold morning air as he took off the fogged goggles and laid down the large piece of equipment.

"There you are, Son," Gregg rounded his side and handed him a hot cup of coffee, which he took gratefully and cradled in his cold hands. "How long have you been out here?"

"I don't know," he took a sip of the hot liquid, letting it run down and scald his throat. "Maybe an hour or two."

He turned fully, forgetting his own subtle change in appearance until he read the startled expression on the older man's face. "Whoah, Chakotay," he moved closer. "What happened to your tattoo, or am I just getting old?"

He lied, reciting the rehearsed story that he'd practiced. "It was the tenth anniversary of my father's death – before we came," he quieted, manipulating his voice. "Before the accident…" He looked back up, setting his jaw, steeling himself against the lies he was telling – the wonderful friend he was deceiving. "And, uh, it's a tradition to take the mark for 90 days to pay tribute to those who have passed, to honour their legacy. It's a special ink, faded only with a solvent made from a native plant."

"Hunh," Gregg nodded his head – not knowing enough about Native American tradition to otherwise argue the otherwise ludicrous tall-tale. "That's interesting – outlandish," he nodded his head, contemplative. "But interesting. It looked so real – so part of your personality that Jan and I, we thought it was real."

Chakotay nodded his head regretfully and looked away. "For a while it felt real."

Again the older gentleman nodded his head and cracked a smile. "Jan is going to flip when she sees you. I think she was getting sweet on that tattoo."

Chakotay grinned. "So was Kathryn."

"So how are things with you two?" Then he caught himself, "I don't mean to pry…"

"No," he shook his head, taking another sip of the hot brew. "Things are great. I actually wanted to talk to you about something if you have a minute. It's something I've been thinking about for a while now. "

"I'm all ears!" He beamed, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I've a few minutes before the boss calls me to get my tuches inside and get ready to leave."

"Have you heard of the Millennium Gate?"

/

"Were you alright to open the account?"

"Fine," Kathryn forced a smile refilling her coffee cup. "And we deposited the cheque, thank you Jan. But we insist on paying you back for everything – like we talked about a few weeks ago. And paying for utilities." She gave the older woman a firm smirk to counter her bubbly ambivalence.

"Kathryn –" she raised her hands in surrender.

"Jan," Kathryn's full death glare came out in its full glory, its period of abstinence unable to dull its vibrancy. Jan was nothing if not overly kind, trusting, and aggravatingly hospitable and concerned. And to Kathryn's deep sense of responsibility and personal onus honed proficiently after spending six years of being on edge, Jan's kindness still came as a curveball even after all these weeks.

"Kath-ryn." The problem with Jan, though, was that she was just as inflexible as Kathryn – even more if it was possible. And dammit she was good at the staring game!

She split a knowing smile. "We took out for the utilities already. It wasn't that much. You earned that money, Kathryn. _Keep it_. And when you and Chakotay get back on your feet, we'll talk again. Okay?"

Kathryn's eyes dropped to her feet. "Alright," she bowed her head in acquiescence. "Thank you."

Jan looked at the woman in front of her; something was out of place, missing. Kathryn was inscrutable at times, yes – she hid herself well, shrouded behind an intricate tapestry of her own weaving. But there was something forlorn about her, wistful even. Her shoulders, usually held high, were slumped in defeat. Dark circles coloured her under eyes and an ashen tone laced her usually rosy cheeks.

"Kathryn," Jan moved closer, putting two bony, well-worn and lived-in hands on her slight shoulders.

The younger woman looked up, navy eyes boring into her own green ones. "What's wrong, Kathryn? Is everything alright with you and Chakotay?"

Kathryn smiled at the mention of his name. She said it out loud all day long for the past six years and even more often in her own head but its use never dulled its preciousness. Her thoughts were of him, eyes always on him. "Yes, Jan. I'm fine. Chakotay, he's fine."

"There was a lot of fine in those sentences," that loving hand moved up and down Kathryn's lissome arms. "If you want to talk, I'm always here. Okay?" She chortled, "But just not right now because we have to proctor an in house exam in-" she looked down at her wristwatch. "Twenty minutes and I'm still in my PJs! And Greggory still isn't back! Gregg we have to leave!" She hollered out the kitchen door and over the patio like she seemed to be doing every morning. "I'll tell you something, Kathryn, I know that you still feel bad about being here and living here – but without your help, I don't even know where we'd be. Running this camp was becoming more and more of a chore and we aren't getting any younger… And we love having the two of you here – Gregg talks about his time with Chakotay all the way to work; about all the projects that they're working on, their conversations. So if you're feeling guilty – if that's what this is about, then stop, alright?"

It wasn't any of that entirely, but Jan's genuineness warmed her. Grateful she hid away her consternation and nodded. "Thank you. Again."

The back door creaked open and Chakotay's rich laughter wafted in on the cool stream of air that followed him. "Oh! I think I hear the men! Gregg! You're down to 5 minutes, Old Man!"

"Alright, Honey!" He called back. "I'm already dressed so I'm ready when you are!"

It was still foreign to see him without the sophisticated, sharp black contours on his forehead. He was still her Chakotay – the striking man she loved. But she had taken something from him – a vital part of him she thought.

He smiled at her, stopping her heart. Goodness it just wasn't fair that he could do that; knock her from herself with just those two eyes!

"Chakotay!" Jan's eyes nearly jumped from their sockets as she sauntered over to him. "Your tattoo! Where did it go?!"

He laughed at her reaction. "Um," he pulled at his earlobe – a trait that expressed itself when he was nervous or lying. But no one but Kathryn knew; she fiddled with her commbadge, he tugged on that poor earlobe. "It, uh, wasn't permanent." He lied again.

"What do you mean? You've had it since we met you!"

"Indian tradition, Honey," Gregg smiled, pointing at his wrist to his own watch. "I'll tell you on the way to work. We have to go!"

"Oh you're right. Well," she ran up to Chakotay and kissed his cheek. "You and Kathryn take care and we'll talk to you later. And," she looked back at the younger woman. "Try and relax."


	42. Chapter 42

Nearly two years ago now he'd watched her do the same thing, slip down the same precarious slope.

The Void.

He'd noticed it two weeks into the interim they spent there. Up to that point, she'd been working doggedly – keeping herself occupied by spending countless hours with Seven in astrometrics trying to plot new courses, find shortcuts; hovering over Harry's shoulder, insistently running scan after scan, which always ended in loudly huffed sighs of frustration.

In the end, before the Malon, there had been nothing to do but sit and wait, and idle hands were Kathryn's worst nightmare.

The Void had been the most memorable - eminently frustrating to him, and disconcerting to the crew. But there had been other times, usually when they had lost crewmembers. She withdrew, hiding herself for a time and then reemerging just as stolid, just as imperturbable and just as in-control as she always was. He used to comm. her and check in on her, but she'd usually just brush him off with an "I'm fine, Commander." And that would curtly end their brief conversation. He just never knew what to do – which buttons to press and which boundaries to push. So he left her alone.

And she was doing it again: withdrawing, even in this tiny space. Physically, she couldn't escape him, but he felt those same invisible barriers so strongly.

He'd spent most of his morning up until lunch in the barn working and drawing up plans for his projects. He'd come home to a note telling him that she'd gone for a walk and would be back later. He worried; it was silly, but usually where one went the other followed. It sounded patriarchal, almost chauvinistic, but he wanted to protect her and have constant visual assurance of her safety. He'd spent too long worrying about her, trying to argue with her around every conceivable turn: when she went to help the drones in Unimatrix Zero by getting herself assimilated, when she danced with that devil Kashyk… when she went on every goddamn away mission and got herself into trouble and he'd have to find some way, some brilliant solution to get her out unscathed.

He thought she'd just be gone for an hour, but that hour turned into two, and then three… He was pacing, his consternation building, that gnawing in his gut becoming more and more prominent. He chided himself; she was allowed to have this time to herself. It wasn't fair that she should be forced to spending every one of her waking moments with him. She was used to living alone, having her own space; retiring to her empty quarters at the end of the day and putting on some Tchaikovsky while reading a book until she went to bed.

And he'd taken that away from her – that privacy, that blissful solitude – the choice of whether or not to have company. The more he thought about it, the more selfish he felt. And then the gnawing self-doubt crept in the back door behind the loathing. If they weren't stranded like this, would she really be with him? Was their relationship, this closeness, just borne out of their isolation here – the fact that they were the only two people who knew the truth about themselves and each other? That niggling thought reared its head again; Kathryn deserved better than this, than him. She always had. And even if they were to be stranded here for the rest of their lives, he wanted the best for her – for her to be as happy as she could be. And if that happiness wasn't with him, wasn't here, then he would do everything he could to help her find it.

The sun was starting to set behind the grey clouds that ushered in the dusk. A noise roused him and he sat quickly at alert; it appeared that he'd fallen asleep in his vigil.

"Kathryn?"

"I'm just going to get a shower." He heard her depressed monotone as she quickly stepped into their bedroom and shut the bathroom door.

A familiar frustration and anger bubbled in his gut. How dare she! She'd been gone for nearly four and a half hours and he'd been worried sick! His previous sense of forlorn seemed to die away as irritation with her behavior took its place. Suddenly, he wasn't having any more of it. He wouldn't stand for another stint like the one she pulled in the Void. He wouldn't let her pull away and he wouldn't walk on eggshells around her anymore!

He strode purposefully into the bedroom and opened the bathroom door. Steam billowed out into the surrounding room as he stepped in. She hadn't heard him come in over the noise of the shower, nor had she seen him through shower curtain. Her clothes lay in a listless heap on the floor as he stepped over them and tore the curtain back.

"Dammit, Kathryn. What the hell were you thinking?" He steeled himself against the sight of her; lithe body, shapely breasts, tiny waist, auburn hair that curled slightly in the dampness. Spirits, she was perfect. Tiny freckles dotted her whole body, beckoning him again to re-taste every single one of them.

But Goddammit he was angry!

"Get out, Chakotay!" Apparently so was she.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on! This isn't Voyager! You can't just dismiss me when my presence is inconvenient for you. You can't threaten me with confinement to quarters and loss of rank because I call you out!"

She turned to look at him fully, hands on her hips, chin up. But her shoulders were still sagged resignedly, her body still evidently so weary, and those lines under her eyes seemed tattooed there.

And all of a sudden he felt that surge of compassion, of love and forgiveness when he remembered his earlier guilt.

He breathed out a long sigh as he kept his eyes on hers, staring, boring into her until she relented. "Please, Kathryn," he whispered.

Her small body trembled; pelted by the hot stinging water, and she shook her head as tears began to fall. "Oh Chakotay," she whimpered. "I'm sorry."

It wasn't one thing – it was a million little ones that made up one great monster. She carried him on her shoulder, fire breathing and vicious. And she could manage, most of the time; when her father died, when they first got stranded, on Voyager. Yes, she managed, but only barely. She felt every loss personally. Every injury to a member of her crew, she swore that she too had been wounded, as if the physical scar was hers too to bear.

She still carried the guilt of destroying the array, of marooning one hundred and fifty good people so far from the ones that they loved. And she still carried the burden of leaving them to be here, regardless of whether or not it was her fault.

She felt blameworthy for abusing his feelings for so many years, for pushing him away so many times and belittling his kindness and sympathy.

And she felt responsible now, for this – for him – for taking away his tattoo, for even letting him consider it let alone do it. He'd forfeited over and over for her and when she measured herself and what she thought she was worth in the face of such love and sacrifice, she found herself desperately lacking.

He watched her tiny body wrack in sorrow and his anger was forgotten. Piece by piece he stripped his clothing, dropping each garment on the floor on top of hers and stepped under the scalding water. Two muscled arms enveloped her as he kissed her damp head over and over. "Shhh," he soothed the great gulping sobs as her arms came up to tangle in his wet hair. "I'm sorry I got mad. But don't do this to me, Kathryn. Don't pull away from me," he shuddered against her. "I can't bear it. I can't suffer seeing you like this." He loosened his grip on her and stepped back. "Talk to me."

She clawed back into his embrace, unwilling to let go just yet.

"I feel guilty."

She'd never said those words out loud. Maybe she'd said it indirectly, but to be so openly raw with her emotions was atypical for her. Even as a girl she'd hidden things – buried them in deep, hidden recesses, corking them, and letting them sit until they either died away or manifested themselves elsewhere under a new guise.

She had hardly spoken to Mark about her feelings; she just listened to him when he spoke of them. He was so good at it – pontificating for hours on the subject of emotionalism, the power of it. It was a waste, she thought, of a perfectly good mind to dwell on her own weakness and frailty.

"I feel guilty for so much. For stranding Voyager, for all their deaths, all their frustrations, for keeping us apart, for not getting to know my crew better, for not making more time for Naomi… for you, for this, and for leaving them and having no chance to fix my mistake and get them all home." His arms tightened until there was no space between them - until they were one flesh. His heart beat with hers, their beats synchronized to one another. "And it's so much sometimes – so much to bear. It's crushing me and I can't breathe under the weight of it all."

There was nothing he could say – nothing to alleviate the pain. He marveled at this tiny woman in his arms – the woman who was the axis that his world tilted on. How could one woman bear so much?

"I'm so sorry, Kathryn," was all he could manage. "I promised a long time ago to make your burdens lighter, but I haven't been able to keep that oath. And I'm_ so sorry_. But you can't keep going like this – it's going to consume you, hollow you out until there's nothing left, and I can't be without you. I can't…" he was angry with the reality that there was nothing he could do. He couldn't turn back the clock on their journey, or bring Voyager to them, or bring anyone back to life. "I can't make any of this go away."

She nodded her head against his shoulder. "I know. It's not going to go away and I think I'll always struggle with it, but I won't hide from you. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that," he leaned down and laid a kiss on her shoulder, tasting her skin, his breath catching at the sensation of his lips and tongue on her. "I love you and nothing will change that. I'll do whatever I can for you, Kathryn. If I could make it all go away, I would, whatever the cost, but I can't. And I struggle with the same things."

"I know," her arms moved down to hang loosely over his neck. "You've been through more than I ever have, Chakotay, and you've never been as self indulgent as I-"

He laughed at that. "I've become a master performer, then. That's not true, Kathryn. But we all cope differently. And I've learned to let it go because it was eating me up, hardening me, and I hated who I was becoming. And," he tasted her again, laying an open mouth kiss at the base of her neck. This time her breath caught audibly and a tremor of arousal coursed through her veins, lingering and creating aftershocks that quaked down to her core. "I've had help."

She smiled, her sadness and grief disappearing as she leaned away from him and caught his smiling, kind cobalt eyes. "It's different," her right arm uncoiled itself from his neck to trace the path from his ear up to his temple. "To see you without the tattoo."

He smiled broadly. "I know. It's a change for me too. Better or worse?"

She smirked, her head falling back as she laughed at the lunacy of his statement. "On you, Chakotay, I don't think anything is liable to make you look worse! You're just about the most devilishly handsome man I've laid eyes on." She reached up on her tippy toes and kissed the spot where his tattoo used to lay.

He kissed her quickly, catching her lips as she moved away and laughed mirthfully and those damned glorious dimples were peeking out under strong cheekbones. "Devilishly handsome, huh?"


	43. Chapter 43

"Chak-o-tay!"

His name came out as a garbled gasp as she screamed into the pillow. He was supremely unyielding, holding her hips and hammering into her. God the pleasure was incredible – too bad it would rob her of her sanity permanently if he kept it up. And he would – glorious bastard that he was. He'd make sure she came over and over, sobbing and clenching around his rigid arousal each time and inching closer and closer to a wonderful oblivion.

Small hands grabbed desperately at the wrinkled, sweaty sheets and a pillow shielded her head from the headboard. Waves of pleasure undulated over and over, coursing through her body, driving her closer and closer to insanity's edge with each rough push of his hips.

Her legs had given way at her first release. She was sopping wet, the sounds of their damp joining sounding off the wall mixed in with both their cries. How he managed it, she had no idea; he was forty-seven now, and even when she was younger she'd never experienced a man who had this much control over himself.

"Gods, Kathryn!" He was close, his power skating a tenuous line of defeat.

She groaned again as he kept going, his penis hitting her cervix on entrance and rubbing wonderfully up against her G spot on his way out.

"Chakotay!"

She could feel it building again: that slow pressure that started in her toes, warming her from the bottom up and making her crazy. Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, his hand snaked from its firm grip on her hip around to her swollen clitoris and kept a firm and steady circling motion. "Oh God!" She moaned, feeling something different entirely, a warm rush of liquid unlike anything she'd ever felt before. If it were possible, her breaths started coming in shorter and shorter pants and she was sure she was going to pass out from all of it.

In that moment her world exploded into a thousand white stars and her body was enveloped in a rush of energy that spread instantaneously to every cell in her body. A loud scream departed her lips and moisture built behind her closed eyes. Her body was reduced to nothing more than one oversensitised nerve ending that shook involuntarily in paroxysms of glorious pleasure.

At the decrescendo of a primal roar, his hold on her hips fell away and peripherally she felt him pull out as he collapsed bonelessly on the bed next to her and gathered her listless form against his. He was breathing heavily, a testament to the power of his own release. His arms held her tightly as her body quaked, pleasure from her orgasm still strongly lingering even moments after its splendid arrival.

The rigours finally quieted and, after what seemed like hours, she came back to herself – her ears finally registering the lingering whimpers escaping her lips as his hand stroked over her breast.

She turned in his arms, sliding against his damp chest, to regard him. "That was one hell of an improvement on the last forty-two times I woke up on Valentines Day," she smirked, her hand coming to draw small, aimless circles on his chest.

He laughed, drawing her flushed faced down to his. Her mouth opened automatically against his as her tongue came out to taste him.

"Ditto," he chuckled as she pulled away.

"I think we broke some sort of record – three times in one go? Doesn't that seem a little excessive, Chakotay?" She laughed, kissing the crooked bridge of his nose.

"You're perfect, Kathryn," Chakotay drew her to him again, the necessity to be intimate with her never quenchable. "I have a surprise for you today." He pulled away, groaning as he got off the wrinkled bed. He was eager to get on the road; according to the printout from the Internet, it would take them more than a few hours to get there.

She leered at his absence. "Where are you going?" Wickedly she spread herself tantalizingly. "Come back to bed," she whispered, painting an enticing picture with her golden auburn hair, beautifully longer now, spread as a halo across the white pillowcase. The morning light swept in through the windows casting an aura on her flushed porcelain skin. She was a goddess; his own personal goddess, and she was outstanding.

Impossibly, defying his age and the shattering release he'd just had, he could feel himself hardening again. "You're trouble, you know that don't you?" He grinned cheekily, mustering all of his willpower to resist the urge to tumble back onto damp sheets and take her all over again. "But we have to get going."

"Go where?"

"I can't tell you," he winked. "It's a surprise."

"I hate surprises," she sulked, still humourously bitter that he wouldn't come back to bed. "Why can't you tell me?"

"That's the definition of a surprise, Kathryn," he deadpanned.

"Please." Some things never changed – like Kathryn' finagling. She couldn't stand it – that element of the unknown, a secret kept. She'd drawn so much out of him over the years, things he'd tried to keep from her over the years – much of the it pertaining to the sillier aspects of life aboard Voyager. But she couldn't handle not knowing everything – having all the answers. But not this time!

"Stop wheedling!" He grinned. "Boy some things never change. But trust me, you'll like this one. I promise," he turned into the bathroom and started the shower. He waited a few moments before enticing her, calling from under the hot water. "I'll wash your back!"

Well with an offer like that, and the promise of more, she most certainly couldn't say no.


	44. Chapter 44

"So you're not going to tell me _anything_ about where we're going?" Kathryn's left arm found his thigh and her fingers began dancing in small non descript designs. Maybe he would relent…

He smirked and laughingly batted her wandering hand away, his mind starting to drift elsewhere other than the road. "Kathryn Janeway," he scolded, briefly glancing at her while keeping his attention on the solitary path in front of them. "I'm not going to tell you; I'm sure you'll figure it out all on your own soon enough."

In fact, he couldn't believe she hadn't before now.

She huffed a sigh of defeat and removed her hand, drawing her leg into her chest as she stared out the window to watch the passing scenery.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, watching the day come alive as the sun rose over the fields and bathed everything in a golden-orange radiance. Snow and ice still covered everything, sparkling in the dawn light in the areas that still lay untouched. If she remembered correctly, this snow would hang on until early April, at least.

The weather grid in her own time had been programmed to maintain the normal conditions that existed in the biosphere before the Third World War.

The nuclear explosions had devastated the Earth's atmosphere, casting the world into shadow and winter. It had been bleak; millions of people had died on the initial explosions, but even more had died during the nuclear winter due to the cold, the exposure, and the effects of the radiation.

One of the brilliant technological advances that were borne out of the devastation was the weather grid; like satellites, about a dozen of them were programmed to rotate about the Earth's atmosphere to regulate the temperature and microclimate patterns. Those devices had been instrumental in attenuating the nuclear winter and ultimately they helped restore the planet.

The climate grids were encoded to maintain each area's original climate, so what Kathryn experienced in Indiana during her time would have been pretty close to this. But somehow it still felt different – this winter colder, the days shorter.

"What are you thinking, Kathryn?" Chakotay's warm whispered inflection startled her daydreams.

"I was thinking…" She started, but stopped, still wrapped up in her own thoughts.

"You were thinking?" He smiled, reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers.

"I was thinking," she smiled and turned her body towards him. "About Indiana – how little of it I saw when I was a girl. I can remember," she paused. "Going camping with my family..."

"I remember you telling me about that," he glanced at her. "You _hated_ camping."

She laughed. "I did. I _hated_ it! The bugs, the dirt –"

"No textbooks, bathtubs – if I remember correctly."

"Not a one!" She chuckled. "And for the life of me, I couldn't get used to sleeping or going the bathroom outside!"

"Didn't your parents bring those portable bathroom units?"

"Nope!" She shook her head. "Can you imagine? It was like some sort of medieval torture! But I miss it sometimes, and I wish that I'd had a better attitude. You wouldn't believe what a grumbler I was when I was an adolescent. There was a good time there when I thought my mother wanted to disown me!"

"Kathryn Janeway, petulant? I don't believe it!" He laughed.

"I know, what a surprise! But, I can remember this one year. I think it was the last time that we went camping as a family before I went off to the Academy and became too busy for home," her tone became wistful as she raked through her precious memories. "I remember watching my parents together on that trip; there was something special about the way my parents were together. My father was so seldom around when I was a young girl – always on away missions, negotiations off planet... But, goodness he was wonderful when he was there," she smiled at the particular recollection. "He was funny – told the best jokes, always made us laugh. When I got engaged to Justin, which was a mistake right from the beginning, I suppose I was just so eager to recreate the relationship that my parents had."

"They were special," he tightened his grip on her hand, reverent. "And they loved you very much."

"Yes," she nodded her head. "They were. My mother was devastated when my father died. But somehow, she found this strength in the midst of it all – some belief in a great plan and she picked herself out of that sadness and looked past it. It wasn't like that for me," she sighed. "I became depressed, thought it was my fault – I took him away from her, from Phoebe… from all of us. I felt terribly guilty. For two months after I didn't leave my room; I wouldn't eat and couldn't sleep more than a few hours a night. I would just sit in bed, staring at the wall, crying until no more tears would come, hating myself for what I thought what my fault."

"I'm so sorry, Kathryn." His thumb moved over hers, soothing her as he kept his eyes on the road, slowing down at an un-sanded patch of black ice.

"I remember the one day," she huffed a wry laugh at that particular memory. "My mother and sister stormed into my room, opened all the curtains and told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't going to behave like that anymore and that what happened wasn't my fault. And slowly, and with a lot of patience, I got through it. They didn't give me a choice."

"Is that when you met Mark?"

"No, well, yes," she amended. "I knew Mark for a long time before that – his parents knew my parents and I guess you could say that we grew up together. We never should have gotten together. It was always a mistake – he was something to make me feel safe; having someone seemed to be what I needed in my life to confer me some sort of stability after my father died. And Mark," she rolled her eyes at the realization. "Was very 'fatherly' – a good listener, attentive. But wrong for me."

"How come?"

"Mark was passive to a 'T' and I dominated him, suffocated him sometimes, I think. There was no passion between us, just a familial love born of familiar circumstances and shared memories. Two years ago when I heard that he'd gotten married, I was relieved."

He remembered the day they had received their letters through the array. "You didn't seem relieved, Kathryn, when you first told me."

"I think I was more shocked than anything else. That we had even heard from home was a surprise in itself. Even before I got that letter, I had assumed that he moved on." Kathryn turned and looked over at him, studying his strong profile in the sunny morning light. "I had," she whispered. "I moved on a long time before that letter came, Chakotay. When I fell in love with you, Mark's memory faded. I felt terribly shameful at first, for loving you like that when I had such a good man waiting for me at home; a man who put me on a teetering pedestal and worshiped each breath I took."

"Mark knew that you loved him the best that you could. And anyone who has shared any part of your love, Kathryn, should consider themselves very lucky.

"How do you do that?" She batted away tears that threatened to come at the infinite kindness of his words.

He just smiled and kissed their entwined fingers while keeping his eyes on the road.

"_World's largest ball of string_?" Kathryn looked out the window at the giant billboard shaped like what it was adversitising.

He craned his neck to get a better look. "Only in Indiana," he laughed. "Should we go see it?"

"Chakotay," she snorted. "If you're idea of an excursion is driving me almost three hours to see the world's largest ball of string, we're going to have a problem on our hands!"

He shook his head, still laughing. "It's not, but might be worth the trip."

"Don't we have somewhere to be?" She tested slyly, trying to see if their secret destination would slip.

"I'm not letting up, Kathryn," he grinned. "We don't have to be there for another hour at least. Let's go see the giant ball of string – I'm somewhat intrigued!"

"Well, Commander, we are explorers after all!"


	45. Chapter 45

"Well I think we can cross that one off the bucket list," Chakotay laughed, twirling his string ball keychain on his finger as they left the hall housing what indeed was the largest ball of string he'd ever seen in his life.

"Mmmm…" she grinned, agreeing facetiously. "I think of all the stellar phenomena, all the planets, and all the nebulas and gas giants that we've seen, that ball of string outranks all of them."

"Oh by a long shot," he agreed sarcastically. "Come on, let's get back on the road."

"To?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Not until you tell me!" She replied, typical Kathryn with her hands firmly on her hips as he opened her door.

"We'll be there in half an hour," he stood in front of the open car door and struggled with his new keychain as he pried apart the metal enough to slide the car keys onto it. "And you'll certainly figure it out well before we get there."

They drove on in silence for a while longer, and as they kept going, the cogwheels in Kathryn's brain started to turn – they were driving southwest. She craned her neck to read the rapidly approaching sign in the distance.

"_Chakotay_?"

A big smile erupted across her face; she finally caught on. "Kathryn?"

Like a giddy little girl, she moved forward to the edge of her seat to read the sign, now visibly illustrated with a familiar structure. "'Welcome to Portage Creek, Indiana'," she read. "'Home of the Millennium Gate'." A mammoth grin was plastered to her face as she turned to him. "You remembered," she whispered.

He drove along the smooth asphalt road crossing over into the city limits. A gasp escaped her lips as the tall structure appeared in the distance. Tall trees and the road had concealed it before, but now it was there for her to behold in all of its glory – just like the recreation she'd seen in astrometrics a year ago. "You remembered," she murmured again, reaching automatically for his hand as tears spilt over her cheeks.

She had been disillusioned by the realization that her great, great ancestor Shannon O'Donnell hadn't actually had the prominent position in the project that Kathryn had been led her whole life to believe. And because of that disenchantment, she believed that she had lost something of herself, some metaphysical drive that had goaded her all those years ago to become to woman that she was.

The photo of the older woman lovingly given to her by her crew on Ancestor's Eve never made it to her ready room. She meant to put it there, but the silly sense of forlorn and dissatisfaction always prevented it from taking its rightful place.

But right now, something changed within her again; that bright eyed wonder that Kathryn had as a girl for this place, even having never seen it due its tragic destruction during the war, reasserted itself as she stared, mesmersised.

"It's a shopping center now, with shops and restaurants. I read on the Internet that there's even a hotel and some office space. I thought we'd go see it," he squeezed her hand as they passed through the small town center, its old-timey buildings now devoted office and living space for the local residents.

"I'd forgotten. Can you believe it?" She glanced over to him before returning her gaze to the massive ever-closer structure. "All this time that we'd been here and I'd forgotten." She was repeating herself, rational thought lost in the maelstrom of excitement. A sudden thought occurred to her, generating butterflies in her stomach. "Do you think we'll see Shannon and Henry?"

"I looked up Henry Janeway in something called the White Pages; he's married to a woman named Shannon, they have three children, and they still live in Portage Creek."

Amazement was written all over her face, excitement bubbling from every pore. "I remember that they had children together – my ancestors," she whispered, flabbergasted.

Though the center of town itself was a tiny, non-descript sort of place that one might not even take a second glance at, outside large, impressive modern glass buildings lined the road on either side. He recognized some of the company names – obviously Portage Creek had become a metropolis for international business because of the Millennium Gate project.

The roads were busy, despite it being a holiday. Large four-lane streets, much like the shopping road back home in Arcadia, were organized with lights and round-abouts. But he went straight as he followed the signs to the Millennium Gate – Mall and Office Space.

He looked over every few moments or so at the stoplights; her face was the picture of mirth – the most excited he'd seen her in a long time.

"There it is," she whispered as they followed the long succession of cars into the Gate's parking lot. "It's magnificent. Better than the recreation in astrometrics; better than I imagined it when I was a girl."

"It is," he smiled, happy to give this gift to her – happy to see her like this, so filled with marvel and delight.

He drove slowly around the lot for a while, still following the other cars, looking for a place to park. "Stop," she squeezed his fingers in between hers. "This family's getting into their car – I think they're leaving."

"Are you ready?" He turned off the ignition once the car was safely nestled in the prised spot and turned to look at her.

She smiled and nodded, letting go of his hand and jumping out of the car as she put on her coat.

The structure was marvelously massive - over one kilometer high, if she remembered correctly. It glinted in the clear sunlight, its solar panels harnessing that photonic energy and using it to power the building and the town.

She retook his hand as they walked to one of the many entrances. Restaurants enticingly placed their kitchen vents to waft out into the parking lot, cunningly luring in shoppers and diners. It did smell wonderful and neither of them had eaten since early this morning just before they left. But they were too excited to stop yet.

Like an eager child, her legs carried her quickly so that he was shuffling to keep up. "Excited?" He laughed, as she dragged him on.

"You have no idea," she smiled back at him. "I can't believe that I'm really here!"

Large revolving glass doors ushered them and the bodies they were pressed against into a huge lobby. People around them barreled out onto pristine polished granite floors. From the base you could look up and see level after level of shops and businesses and the hundreds and people that came and went, carrying shopping bags while they talked and laughed.

But coming here, Chakotay had something very particular in mind – something he wanted Kathryn to see before they scoped out the rest of the shopping center. He tugged on her hand, rousing her from her awe-induced stupor. "I have something to show you," he whispered in her ear as he led her over to the huge directory. "I looked up the mall directory before we came," he scanned one of the large, vivid touchscreen screen directories and scrolled down. "Here it is," he pointed. "Alexandria Books."

She looked up at him, dumfounded. "Henry Janeway's book shop. He moved his book store into the Millennium Gate?"

He smiled, "Uh hunh. Shall we?"


	46. Chapter 46

"Let's take the lift," he pointed to one of the dozen glass elevators that lined the walls.

"Tenth floor, was it?" She walked expectantly towards open glass doors along with the rest of the throng of shoppers. They were pushed towards the side as bodies crammed the small space. She stood close to him, pressed against the contours of his body. Without thought his arm protectively snaked its way around her waist, holding her close as he rested his head on the top of hers.

It appeared that they would make a stop on every floor, as every shopper pressed a different button. The lift itself was completely made of glass, giving the passenger a full-spectrum view of the massive hall as it moved up or down.

The doors shut and the elevator began to move higher and higher. They stood, each craning their necks around to watch, to look, to marvel. She had never seen anything like this in her life – the closest she'd witnessed was one particular complex on Risa when she was a cadet on her first shore leave. The shopping center had been extensive, but this was something special. And Kathryn was in awe.

From here she looked down and saw a huge, solitary slate wall with water running down it into a basin which was dotted artfully with bubbling fountains. Exotic ficus plants and flowers, none of which she could identify, were planted along the railings that lined the upper levels. Sunlight shone in through the ceiling, which was arched in steal and intricate glass designs. Massive sphere-shaped objects, lights presumably, hung suspended from different lengths of twisted and twirled wrought iron poles. It was beyond impressive – a testament to the ingenuity of the builders, architects, and visionaries who built this.

He grinned as he looked around at the myriads of Valentines decorations. Mammonth-sized red hearts hung poised from the ceiling and the railings of each level, and tiny pink lights were twined around the railings of each floor, lending the huge bright space in a cornily romantic rose hue.

There seemed to be a dozen conversations going on at once – the combination of the chatter and merriment creating a soothing din. A gentle disembodied voice, much like the computer aboard Voyager, sounded the level as people barrelled out, pushing against one another to pass quickly though the door before they missed their stop.

"We're next," he whispered into her hair as he laid a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. She leaned closer into the familiar heat of his body, enjoying his small, sweet intimacies.

That Cheshire grin hadn't left her face since she'd seen the sign for Portage Creek. She was thrilled, ecstatic to whiteness this part of history that had inspired her as a child, had been the root of family legends, and the Launchpad from which her dreams had taken glorious flight. But this place was beyond anything she could have imagined, sleek and towering. With minor injections of superfluous technology, this was something on par that she would have seen in their own time. But somehow it was still _better_.

"_Level ten_," the placid voice sounded from the overhead as the lift came to a halt. There only being eleven levels in total, the elevator had petered out on the way up, leaving it virtually empty as they stepped off.

He looked around as they stood in middle of the sunny hall. "Certainly not as hectic as the other levels, that's for sure."

"Mmm," she nodded, turning her head eagerly to look around her for their destination. "Was it down this way?" She pointed. "Or that?"

"If I remember correctly, it's at the end of that corridor," he indicated.

They sauntered down the hallway, the sound of the tall waterfall and the soft jazz playing overhead providing a background to the faint hullaballoo that sounded from this and the lower levels.

"There," she pointed. "There it is. Henry Janeway's bookshop," she sighed reverentially. But not a millisecond later and in typical Kathryn fashion, doubt and trepidation started to set in - its origin nebulous but strong nevertheless. "Wait." She stopped.

He didn't have to ask what this was about. "Kathryn," he soothed, squeezing her hand twice. It was his unspoken way to say that he loved her, that there was nothing to worry about.

He'd done it every time she was in sickbay. She never knew that he came and held her hand while she was sleeping; just the Doctor and Tom, and neither of them had ever said a word. His action was implicit; it was some way for him to feel close to her, and to say that he loved her when words weren't possible. Of course he'd said the words too, whispered them in her ear while she was too asleep to hear. He never knew that she did the same thing, sometimes staying by his bed all night until he woke, at which point she would quickly relinquish her hold so that he wouldn't know.

The storefront was large – occupying three large windows whereas most stores, she noticed, only had two. Heaps of books lay in artfully arranged piles and towers. Some were newer and more recent, she assumed by the vibrancy of their binding. And some, well most, were older – their pages worn, yellowed, jagged, and uneven. She walked hesitantly up to the first display of books written for children. She didn't recognize any of them, of course, with their creative and silly titles and the funny and animated pictures on their covers . Around the books, a toy train ran in circles on a large track and old-timey, antique teddy bears and stuffed cartoony circus animals looked on from the sidelines. It was beautiful – a work of inventiveness and art.

The second window display was of new books, a large cut out of the most popular laying in the background along with local readers' recommendations.

And the third and final window was of the classics. Propped on a mount, a large collectors piece lay in the center. Its pages were abstrusely drawn with what looked to be ancient Celtic designs in lavish hues of greens, reds, and golds. The writing was in a language she'd never seen before, presumably Gaelic judging by the schemes on the margins. Decorating the periphery were other well-known titles, the spaces that they occupied originally and enticingly bedecked; grecian pottery jugs surrounded copies of the Illiad and the Odyssey; a twisted brooch sat slyly on top of a copy of Oedipus. A small phial and sheathed dagger lay dangerously in front of a copy of Romeo And Julliet. And so it went for other copies. It made them smile - the cleverness of it all.

Standing here, she could _smell_ the bookstore; it was that most loved and heartbreakingly rare mingled scent of old and new pages, of stories, poetry, and epics; the power of the human experience and imagination.

She felt his hand in hers and she looked up to meet his kind, reassuring eyes as he shrugged and led her on towards the doors. "Well, what do you say?"


	47. Chapter 47

She nodded, grinning as she opened one of the wooden-glass doors.

Two mellifluous and strategically placed brass bells signaled their entry as they stepped over the threshold.

Her strides were as tentative as a neonate's; her eyes glued to the visual feast the surrounded her. The window displays, she realized, were just an enticement to cleverly ensnare shoppers with their colourful enigmatic whimsy.

The store itself was divided into two levels connected by a central iron spiral staircase. From the headings indicated above the diverse and colourfully painted bookshelves, the lower level seemed to be divided between classic literature, and children and teen genres. Whereas those shelves upstairs housed titles pertaining to mystery, drama, romance, and religion.

However, the entirety of that detail wasn't so much indicated by words above a mantle, but rather – like the display outside the shop – fanciful symbolism that reflected poignant motifs and central aspects of the epics themselves.

They dangled, as if suspended in mid air, by clear cuts of string from the vaulted ceiling. Kathryn could recognize most of them; Hester Prynne's large red 'A' hung beside the intricate cutout of a mockingbird. Staggered to those, a black cartoon tracing of George Orwell's animal farm swung beside the Phantom's white theatre mask with twirling burgundy ribbons swaying playfully beneath the air vent.

But most enthralling was Captain Ahab's giant sperm wale with a harpoon angled towards its back, which was poised next to a stupendous handcrafted artist's recreation of the giant squid from Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

In the children's section, a gigantic dragon presided over a table with stacks of the same title. And not far from that, a fancifully shaped broomstick, witch's hats, and wands dangled over their own set of shelves.

Chakotay had never seen quite so many books in one place. In their own time, paper was somewhat of an artifact, with everything scholastic contained on padds and large, readily accessible computer databases.

Before his foray on Voyager, he had never been much for reading anything other than the required technical texts for entrance to the academy and thereafter only his class reading. Everything else after that was mostly comprised of ships manuals or crew files.

It wasn't until he met Kathryn that he started to change his views on literature. What to him once seemed a waste of time soon became a way for him to connect with her – to share in her interests and to broaden his mind beyond his self-imposed limitations.

He remembered the first book she had ever lent him. It was near the end of their first year in the Delta Quadrant, when things between them were somewhat raw and they were still becoming accustomed to one another.

She had invited him for dinner in her quarters to go over duty rosters. Busy cursing at her replicator, she hadn't noticed his wandering eyes staring at the many volumes in her bookshelf. Most of the titles he had never heard of – The Inferno, La Vita Nuova, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, a compilation of poetry by Keats... He couldn't recall the rest.

But he remembered their conversation when she found him snooping.

_"Are you a fan of reading, Commander?_"

_"No,"_ he shook his head, covering his embarrassment that she'd found him being so inquisitive of her personal items.

_She cocked her eyebrow at him, as if she'd never heard anything so ludicrous._

"_Well, I mean… I haven't read much in terms of books… classics… classic books…_" he fumbled, almost blushing at his own bumbling redundancy.

"_Well we can't have that, Commander,_" she chuckled. "_Here_," she picked up a worn book with a friable binding, and handed it to him gently. "_Mark, my fiancé, gave this to me. It's called La Vita Nuova_," he could still hear the way she said it – her voice sounding earthier with the fluid Italian inflection. "_It means A New Life. Give it a try. And don't be discouraged by the confusing language; let it speak to you even if you don't fully understand it. Reading is about the journey. Books help you find bits of yourself, but only if you're willing to listen."_

"Hello there," a tall, lanky older gentleman with a proud shock of white hair walked towards them. "Can I help you with anything?"

They turned to him simultaneously as he looked on at them, amused. He had watched as the two stood aimlessly, awestruck, as they examined his bookstore.

Kathryn recgonised him without preamble; this was the man in the photograph of the newspaper scan she had seen on her computer a year ago.

Unmistakably, this was Henry Janeway.

"We were just looking," Chakotay grounded her with a hand on her back while she found the words.

Henry chuckled as he brought his arms out and motioned around him. "So what do you think?"

"It's wonderful," Kathryn replied, looking straight at the older gentleman once she found the gumption to speak. "We've never seen anything quite like it."

"Well now that's the goal; we have to compete, you see!" He smiled, his jolliness hiding a subdued sarcasm.

"Compete?" Kathryn cocked an elegant eyebrow; from what they'd seen on the directory, this was the only bookstore in the mall.

"With this technologically obsessed, 'iPad Generation' as I like to call it…" Henry's shoulders sunk in defeat. "Kids these days, they've lost the wonder – the mental acquisitiveness to read and to imagine!" He looked up at them, observing the amused bafflement in their faces. "I'm sorry," he chuckled. "I get a little carried away, or so my wife would say. So what's your fancy?"

"Well now," Kathryn held up her hand, her gesticulation always a sign of thought. "That depends on the mood."

"Good woman," Henry winked. "I'd have to agree. But whose work would you say transcends the mood and the overt tendency of the choleric human temperament?"

She didn't have to think. "Dante. His work has transcended time and cultural boundaries. His words are open to the readers interpretation and as such speak to all levels of human nature."

The older gentleman nodded his head. "A good enough choice. But personally I would have gone with Homer."

"Homer?" Kathryn huffed a laugh of disbelief.

"Of course!" Henry leaned back on his heels, grinning. "Heroic epics are always a balm to the shattered human soul. They remind us that even though who we are is fallible, we are not ultimately irredeemable."

"I concede," Kathryn bowed her head, still grinning, still not believing that she was speaking with Henry Janeway. "The next time I pick up a book, it will have to be the Odyssey. Goodness it's been years since I read it!"

"It just gets better every time," the older man laughed, shaking his head.

"Henry!" A low disembodied voice came from behind them. Somehow, its cadence was familiar – the stirring alto not totally nebulous. From the room behind the stately desk at the front of the store where several people were purchasing their items, an older woman with short auburn hair sauntered out. "Henry?" She called again before she spotted the trio near the front.

Kathryn turned and saw her first – petite like herself, similar colouring, and a sway of her hips that she could somehow subconsciously place.

Kathryn smiled to herself, butterflies dancing in her stomach as her hands began to quiver. There was no doubt about it; this was Shannon O'Donnell Janeway.


	48. Chapter 48

"Over here!" He smiled as he turned to his wife.

The older woman smirked, coming up to put an arm around his waist. "Somehow," she squinted and tilted her head to look up at him. "When I sent you out for coffee, I knew you wouldn't get far."

Polite and inconspicuous or not, the only thing Kathryn was able to do was stare as she was caught up in the incredulity of the moment.

Here indeed was Shannon O'Donnell Janeway. The small, framed photograph forgotten in her bedside drawer hadn't done justice to her imagination. And for a moment, Kathryn didn't know whether to be disappointed, or relieved that she wasn't how she dreamt.

Like a tot to whom all the world is wondrous, fantastic, and larger than life, so Kathryn had always pictured Shannon. But here she was, not a few centimeters shorter than herself, with auburn hair streaked with touches of grey. Her eyes were a kind blue, a similar colour to her own. High cheekbones and sharp edges were lovingly dulled with scant wrinkles, each seeming to tell stories of joy alongside those of heartbreak and discouragement.

"I was on my way," his mouth curved a familiar half-smile. "But then I ran into these two lovely people… I'm sorry," he paused and turned back to the couple. "I didn't catch your names. My name is Henry Janeway and this," he looked down at his wife again. "Is my wife Shannon. We own this store."

A broad grin spread over Kathryn's features as she tore her eyes quickly away from Shannon to share a brief look with Chakotay. "Kathryn," she smiled as she extended her hand to Henry's. It was strange, to touch him and then her – to hold their hands if only for a brief moment. The organic feel of them, even if familially they were so far removed, was like some sort of brilliant revelation. She felt a deep connection, something profound. These two people were her history – the line that started hers.

Seven had thought her initially preposterous when she had expressed such an interest in Shannon. "_She is fifteen generations removed_," she rightly pointed out in her usual monotone. "Y_ou share only a fraction of her DNA_." And yes, she was right. But Kathryn had known even then that DNA had very little to do with the entity that was family; even though she might only share maybe two percent of her genetic makeup with Shannon and Henry, she felt a immense sense of kinship.

"Chakotay," his deep voice sounded behind her as Henry and Shannon took his hand. "It's nice to meet both of you. Your bookstore amazing."

"Thank you," Shannon grinned, eyeing the two strangers. "It's all Henry and our son Jason's vision. I've never seen anything else like it in all our travels. Sadly," she sighed. "The bookstore is a dying entity in our culture, but we're hanging on."

"You had better believe it," Henry asserted adamantly with an assured grin. "Now," he rubbed his chin, as if caught in a shallow storm of thought. "Chakotay. That's an interesting name."

"Mmm," he smiled agreeably at the older gentleman. "Certainly not something you hear every day."

"Certainly not! But none of the greats ever had ordinary names – Don Quixote, Robinson Crusoe," he counted off the names on his fingers. "Ichabod Crane, Atticus Finch… the list goes on! In my book, a unique name sets a pattern for a unique and extraordinary life."

Chakotay smiled. "And it certainly has been extraordinary so far."

"See what I mean?" Henry grinned victoriously.

There was something about the two strangers that Shannon couldn't place. She must meet hundreds of new people a week in her work here in the bookstore and as a consultant on the Millennium project. But Kathryn and Chakotay were different and she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was that made them so distinctive.

"Are you two from around the area?" Shannon asked.

Kathryn looked over at Chakotay before answering. "No. It's a bit of a long story."

"Oh?" The older woman probed.

"We live in Arcadia now, but uh," he sometimes fumbled to remember the truth according to happenstance and mystery. "I'm originally from Arizona."

"And I was born in Bloomington," Kathryn finished.

"Arcadia, huh?" Henry looked down at his wife. "Why does that sound familiar?" He thought on it. "It's up to the north isn't it? Not far from Bloomington?"

"Yes," Kathryn replied. "That's right. Just an hour, so."

"I think we've driven through there a few times," Henry remembered. "Must be years ago now when we went to talk with suppliers. What brought you to Arcadia?"

Kathryn had to smile at the question; they were still trying to figure that one out. "Happenstance, really." Chakotay covered. "We just sort of landed there…"

Kathryn almost balked at the double entendre.

"Mmm," Shannon nodded her head, chuckling at her own recollection. "That's how I ended up here in Portage Creek!"

Henry's arm tightened lovingly around his wife's waist. "Hmm," he feigned pensiveness. "That's not at all how I remember it. If you recall, it was my siren's call that lured you here, like Odysseus to Calypso's Island!" He laughed. "But unlike the great hero, you were thankfully incapable of getting away."

She laughed heartily at that. "Oh is that how it happened? I must have forgotten! Yes it must have been that; I was lured by your innumerable charms!"

"So," Henry looked back at the register, checking on the young boy ringing people up. "What are you two doing in Arcadia?"

"We're sorry," Kathryn read his gesture. "We don't want to keep you if you have to go."

"No not at all – that's one of our sons over there at the register – Caleb –" he looked back and pointed to the young man who smiled at him. "He gets drafted after school to work at the store."

"Caleb complains, but he secretly loves working here," Shannon winked, and whispered conspiratorially. "So _what are_ you two doing in Arcadia?"

"We're working at a place called Camp Adventure-"

"Oh I think I read about that!" Henry thought on it. "A camp for children with cancer, isn't that right?"

"Yes," Chakotay nodded. "We've been managing it for the owners, but it's something new for us."

"Is this your first year doing camp work, or just at Camp Adventure?" Shannon probed.

"It's uh," Kathryn was unsure of how far they would take this. "It's our first year doing camp work, really."

"Oh? What were you doing before that?" Kathryn, Shannon thought – she didn't seem like the manager of a camp. And neither did Chakotay. Despite their attire, they were stately, stood out from the crowd, and carried themselves with an imprecise, dulled sense of military formality.

"Odd jobs… a little bit of everything," was all Chakotay could cover. Because telling the truth would be too much of a stretch; 'Kathryn is a starship captain from three hundred years in the future where she led a ship called the USS Voyager through the Delta Quadrant. And I was her first officer.'

"I guess you could say we're explorers, always on the go." Kathryn added.

"Dad!" Caleb called from register. "Can you come here for a minute?"

Henry turned his head and looked back. "Sorry," he smiled. "Duty calls."

"Not at all," Chakotay conceded. "It's been good to talk to you."

"Likewise," he grinned genuinely. "We must do it again!"

As her husband walked away, Shannon turned back to them. "Have you been to the Millennium Gate before?"

"No. This is our first time." Kathryn shook her head. "But I've read about it and as a surprise," she smiled up at the man behind her. "Chakotay brought me."

"A Valentines Day gift," he shrugged as his smiling eyes met hers.

She squeezed his hand before she turned her attention back to the woman in front of her. "I've wanted to see the project for a while now and I have to say that it exceeds all expectations."

"It's pretty neat, isn't it?" She beamed. "I've been working on the project since it started in earnest in two thousand and one. And it's been incredible. The builders and our team of architects and engineers had a certain vision when we started out, but I have to say that the finished product is nothing we could have imagined."

"Oh?" Kathryn delved slyly, trying to place the missing pieces to the gnarly jigsaw puzzle that she had only been able to put together from a few odd newspaper clippings. "So you've worked on the project?"

"Yes. I'm part of a central group of ten engineers who have been with the project since its inception. We designed the 'self-contained biosphere'," she rabbit eared. "The energy that runs this place is generated here and supplies the town and some of the residences in the area outside of Portage Creek. We even have our own water and sewage purification system."

"From the available design schematics it looks like you're using a completely new method of maintaining the biosphere – no one up until this point has been able to implement the Botzman Method with any measure of success." Kathryn's heart stopped at her own words; they had slipped out unguarded.

Shannon tilted her head gave a sly crooked smile that could have been Kathryn's. Aspects of her were so like Kathryn, Chakotay thought; even the way she looked, the way she spoke – that husky alto that he loved so much, and some of her inflections. "Are you an engineer, Kathryn?"

"I- uh," she looked down and felt Chakotay's reassuring hand on the small of her back. "Well, you could say so…"

"Only an engineer would know about the Botzman Method," Shannon smiled.

"Shannon?" Henry called as he rounded the trio again. "Jason called; he wants to drop off the twins this evening – he and Anna wanted a night to themselves. I told him we'd pick the kids up from school and let them spend the night."

She looked down at her watch. "That's in forty minutes. If I want to get there on time, I'd have to leave now."

"I know," he looked down a little sheepishly. "But they wanted to go out for Valentines Day. Can you blame them?"

"No," she beamed at him, shaking her head. "I'll leave now. I'm sorry," She turned back to Kathryn and Chakotay. "I've got to go get our grandchildren from school. But," she took her husband's hand. "Why don't you two join us for dinner tonight? That way you can tell me all about your engineering experience and I'll tell you more about the project."

"That sounds like a great idea!" Henry chimed in. "We'll have all the kids, but they're well behaved," he made a face and crossed his fingers over his heart. "Fingers crossed."

A look of surprise must have crossed their faces. "Oh!" Shannon blushed. "Henry, it's Valentines Day! These two must have plans! We're so sorr-"

"No," Chakotay smiled broadly. "We would love to join you, if it isn't too much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all. We live just in town, on old Main Street – 14 Main Street to be exact. If you came through town, just go back that way and you shouldn't miss it. Come by at around six," Henry glanced down at his watch. "In just about two hours, and we'll have dinner on the table. It isn't often we have guests over, so we apologise in advance for any mishaps or untowardness our children and grandchildren might exhibit."

Shannon laughed and lightly hit him on the chest. "Stop it, you old joker. In the meantime, have a look around and if you see anything you like, it's on us."

"Oh no," Kathryn shook her head. "We couldn't, really. You've been too kind already."

"No," Henry cut her off kindly. "I insist. I'll tell Caleb at the counter that he isn't to let you leave without a book or two of your choice."

"Thank you," Chakotay bowed his head in gratitude for the unexpected kindness.

"Nonsense," Shannon patted his arm. "Think nothing of it. Now I have get the grandkids and Henry here has to pick up one of our own from lacrosse. We'll see you at six!"


	49. Chapter 49

"_Is this really happening?"_ Kathryn whispered, giddy after their conversation with Shannon and Henry.

They wandered unassumingly into the hidden and forgotten back of the bookstore. Here, books were piled in great heaps on cold grey wheelie carts, forgotten amid their newer, spiffier cousins towards the front.

These books were dated, antique, but not terribly rare or valuable. Though perhaps they held interest to some. Organisation was a forgotten concept as these volumes laid in a hodgepodge of beguiling disarray. Most of the books were on offer for only a dime, a quarter, or a dollar at most.

_"_Yes," he murmured back as he stood close to her as his hands traced over the tawny, piquant pages on the rack in front of him. "Were they what you expected?"

"No," She beamed at the recent memory. "Nothing like I imagined. Especially her. Him I hadn't given much thought to other than when I saw him in the newspaper excerpt. But…" she went silent, still lost in a whirl of astonishment and disbelief. "Somehow, like everything else today, they were better."

Her eyes scanned the shelves. Most of the titles she didn't recognize, and neither did he.

"The Count of Monte Cristo," he read out as he picked up a thick paperback whose pages were only loosely held together by an old, brittle binding. "Have you ever heard of it?"

"Mmm," Kathryn smiled and nodded her head. "A classic. It's about a man who is wrongly accused and sent to prison. He loses everything: the woman he loves, his position, and his friends. He escapes and makes his life about revenge. Phoebe read it when she was younger – became obsessed with it!"

He opened the book, holding it delicately in his large hands and began to scan the first page. "I was once told," he began as he reached the end. "That one should never judge a book by its cover, _rather,_" he smiled and looked down at her crouched looking at the bottom row of books. "You should read the first page, and if you're not immediately taken, it's not worth the read."

"Now _who_ told you that?" She guffawed, looking up at his smiling eyes.

"I think it was Tom, believe it or not!"

"Tom Paris? _He reads_?"

"I think he was using it to try to lure me into reading Captain Proton comics so that I would join him and Harry on one of their adventures." He conceded with a cheerfully plaintive grin.

"I was about to say," she chuckled, the memory of her Arachnia costume still morbidly clear as day. "Because that is possibly the _worst_ advice I've ever heard in my life! If I followed that guidance," she gesticulated firmly. "I never would have gotten through One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovitch. And that book changed my life."

"Oh?" He crouched down to her level as he closed his fragile new prise.

"It's certainly not a happy read, and to be fair – the book is the definition of drole. But it's the small lessons – the hidden pearls, which are freely given for the reader to clasp and interpret. The man in the story has lost everything; he lives in dire, horrific circumstances. But somehow, in the midst of it all, he finds humour, satire, and that's how he keeps his sanity in a place that would have otherwise robbed him the moment that he stepped in. I read it when I was in high school and somehow the story has stayed with me. But boy," she grinned, feigning a wince. "It was a dog to get through!"

They fell back into a comfortable silence as she continued browsing. This was a different experience for her as well. In her own time, if she wanted a book, she would have requisitioned it from her replicator – not gone to a shop to buy one. In fact, she couldn't think of a single bookstore in Bloomington. Books were stored on massive databases and could either be replicated or requisitioned on padds. In the face of a paper book, a padd was often the more logical choice. It was slim, light, and easy to carry. A sac full of books would have been frowned upon as unwieldy, pointless.

But Kathryn had always loved the organic feel of a book in her hand. Digital words didn't seem to have the same impact as seeing actual ink on a page. Paper could be flagged, underlined, circled, and fleeting thoughts could be recorded in the margins. Seeing so many books for her to physically peruse, to touch, and to open was like being in a kid in a candy store, to borrow Tom's much loved phrase.

"Little Women," She smiled affectionately as she picked up the used, frayed book on the end of the shelf. "By Louisa May Alcott. I've heard about this one, but never read it." She held it for a while, flipping through the creased pages before she made her decision. "It's not something I'd usually read, but why not?"

He held out his hand to her and pulled her up. "Oof!" she exclaimed as she returned to full height. "My knees certainly aren't as young as they used to be!"

"Join the club," he grinned as he kept hold of her hand.

"I wonder if we can bully the young man into letting us pay for the books."

"We'll try," He agreed. "But I have a feeling that Mr. Janeway left very specific instructions. And if his last name is any indication, stubbornness is a family trait."

"Are you saying I'm stubborn, Chakotay?" She teased as they walked out into the populated bookstore proper.

"Oh no, Kathryn," He stated earnestly, trying to keep a straight face. "Not at all."

The register was empty when they walked up to it. "Hi," Kathryn held up the two books they had chosen.

"We're just here to pay for these."

The tall redheaded boy was the image of his mother, but held himself with the solid countenance of his father. "I'm under strict instructions _not_ to let you pay for those," he smiled. "Would you two like a bag?"

"Sure," Chakotay nodded as he handed him the books. "Thank you."

"No problem. So you two are coming over for dinner tonight?" He grinned. "That's what dad said."

"Yes," Kathryn nodded.

"We never have people over," Caleb looked over at the children's section, a loud noise heralding the beginning of an infant's cry. "Dad's a little too quirky for most people," he laughed. "According to Jason he got a lot better once he met mom. I don't even want to know what he was like before that!"

"Do you like working here, Caleb?" Kathryn smiled; he looked so much like what her father did when he was young. She'd always thought him boyishly dashing in old holophotos of her parents together.

"It's alright. It's something to do and I get to read in my spare time. When the store's not busy I do my homework. Yeah," he shrugged. "I like it. And I like being here. It's cool. Have you two seen much of the Millennium Gate?"

"Just what we saw on our way in," Chakotay answered as he took the brown paper bag with their books from Caleb's hand.

"You should take a walk around, especially on the lower level where the fountain is. It's really neat. All the fountains at the base of the waterfall are creations of local Indiana artists. Some of them are really awesome."

"Thanks for the tip," Kathryn smiled as they moved to back away.

"We'll see you tonight – 14 Main street!"

"Thank you," Chakotay smiled at the young man. "See you later."


	50. Chapter 50

**Note: for all you non-Irish speakers Aoiffe is pronounced Ee-fa. **

"Aoiffe!" Shannon called at the doorbell's loud ring. "Would you get the door?!"

"Sure, Mom!" A lanky, freckled redhead excitedly bounded down the old spiral staircase, past the exposed kitchen, to the front door.

They never had company; it was always the same – just them- _every night_, except when the twins or Jason and Anna came. But they were family, so they didn't count.

And besides, they were all here so often that they might as well live here.

She had been so excited when she found out that they were having guests over. She'd peppered Caleb with question after question about what Kathryn and Chakotay were like. But he wasn't very helpful; as usual he'd just shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "_Aoiffe_," he huffed. "_They're just people that mom and dad invited over. I don't know anything else. They seemed nice though…" _

A warm rush of air washed the visitors in a huff as the door swung open. "Hello," the young girl's bright blue eyes scanned the couple and a blush crossed her pale skin.

"_Whoah,"_ slipped out unguarded as her adolescent eyes scanned over Chakotay's chiseled features. "Are you Kathryn and Chakotay?"

"Yes," Chakotay smiled and nodded at the young girl who seemed to be amusedly dumbstruck while she stared, beguiled by something he obviously didn't see.

Kathryn had to laugh; yes that had been her reaction as well when she'd first seen him. "May we come in?"

"Aoiffe?" A familiar masculine voice called from behind her. "Is that-? Well hello!" Henry smiled at the couple as they shivered in the doorway. "Well for Goodness sake's Aoif," he chuckled. "Invite our poor freezing guests inside!"

"Sorry!" She blushed as she stood aside and closed the door behind them. "Can I take your coats?" That's what all her friend's parents asked when she went over...

"Yes," Chakotay nodded as he helped Kathryn out of hers before slipping his off and handing it to the young girl. "Thank you."

"No problem," Aoiffe giggled as she moved past them to the coat closet.

"You made it!" Shannon beamed as she walked over to them while she drying her hands on her green apron.

"Yes," Kathryn held up a bottle of wine. "And I was told never to come empty handed!"

"Oh Kathryn," Shannon smiled as she took the bottle. "There was no need. But I have to say, you're a saint; and it's red! We were down to white," she sneered teasingly at her husband. "Henry's favourite, not mine. I'm a red girl myself." She whispered mock conspiratorially. "So we'll open a little bit of both this evening. How does that sound?"

"Wonderful," Chakotay nodded. "Thank you again for having us. It smells wonderful."

"Oh no need to thank us; it's our pleasure!" She smiled frankly. "Tonight, we're trying out a new recipe – vegetable paella. With any luck," the older woman winked and crossed her fingers. "It won't kill us."

Henry snorted as he opened the bottle of wine. "You're not filling us with confidence, honey. I'm only joking," he winked. "Shannon is a wonderful cook."

She gave him a pseudo glare as she went to retrieve the wineglasses from the hanging rack. "Nice save, Mr. Janeway. But, it's true," she poured the corked bottle evenly and generously among all four glasses. "I've improved in these past thirteen years. Our son Jason can tell you _horror story after horror story_ of what it was like to live with my cooking until I properly learned how manoeuvre myself around the kitchen! Well," she held up her left hand in amendment. "Properly enough that my family wasn't _starving_."

"It wasn't _that_ bad," Henry lovingly placated as he swirled the dark liquid around in faint circles.

Kathryn snorted through her sip. "Well if its any consolation, I couldn't cook to save my life! And, in the interest of Chakotay's and my continued survival, I've forever barred myself from the kitchen for anything other than coffee or cereal."

"Oh now, _Kathryn_! I'm sure it isn't _that_ bad," Shannon jested as a loud timer sounded out through the kitchen. "Dinner is ready!"

She took a large, round terracotta pan out of the oven. "Have a seat!" She nodded to the large nearby table. "I'll just bring this right over."

Chakotay had been enjoying their banter as he looked around and relished the wide-open space. On the lower level where they stood, a large kitchen blended effortlessly into the dining room, which flowed seamlessly into the living area. It was comfortable, lived-in. True to Henry Janeway's love for books, every available wall was replaced with overstuffed bookshelves. If it were possible, Henry owned more titles than he sold.

The upper level formed a halo around the lower. More volumes lined more shelves and exquisitely worn intricate red carpets with patterns similar to those that hung on his wall on Voyager adorned the creaky, old wooden floors.

"Aoiffe," Henry nudged his young daughter from her position on the overstuffed brown couch, where she sat curled up, in true Janeway fashion, with a book. "Go get Caleb and the twins, will you?"

"Sure," she shyly smiled at Chakotay as she got up. He returned that grin and, if it were possible, an even deeper rouge crept onto her pale cheeks as she vaulted up the narrow staircase. "Caleb! John Mark! Eli! Dinner!" She called as her voice resonated down the hallway.

"Your house is exceptional, Mr. Janeway," Chakotay held Kathryn's chair for her to sit before he took his own seat next to her.

"Henry, please" the older man smiled warmly as he sat adjacent to them at the head of the antique maple table. "Believe it or not, this used to be our old store before we moved into the Millennium Gate."

"Really?" Kathryn leaned to Henry's side of the table as she took the cloth napkin and spread it over her lap.

"Mmmhmm," he nodded as the sound of children's voices echoed into the main room. Henry looked up at the brood that followed one behind the other down the tapered staircase.

Chakotay and Kathryn both stood out of habit as the younger ones took their seat.

"Hi," a short sandy-haired boy looked up in awe at Chakotay as he plopped into his seat next to him. "I'm Eli."

"Eli!" Aoiffe protested shyly. "I wanted to sit there!"

"Too bad, Aoiffe. I want to sit next to our guest!" Eli protested as he wriggled his bottom into the chair to indicate his property.

"Fine," she grumbled as she sat adjacent to Kathryn.

Another young man, not more than seven years old and the exact copy of his brother took his seat next to his grandfather. "I'm John Mark," he smiled. "But you can call me Johnny. Everyone else does..."

"It's nice to meet you, Eli, Jonny, Aoiffe," Chakotay's dimples deepened warmly as he retook his chair. "Caleb, it's good to see you again."

"You too, sir," the younger man grinned just as his mother came forward and set the large casserole dish in the center of the table.

Like Chakotay's and Jan's dinners, the meal was a delectable gamish of colours; vegetables of all varieties sat in a delicious still-simmering tomato sauce dotted with different varieties of beans and greens. It something Kathryn could never have dreamed up or executed even if she'd had a replicator to do virtually all the work.

"It looks delicious, Shannon," Kathryn smiled as the older woman as she took another sip of her wine.

"That remains to be seen," the older woman winked. "But thank you for your confidence. Well," she placed a large serving ladle on the side. "Dig in, everyone, I made a lot – as you can see- so have at it."

"Delicious," Chakotay complimented as he swallowed his first bite. "I might have to steal the recipe off of you."

"By all means," Shannon swallowed a sip of wine. "So, Chakotay, I've been dying to ask about your name. What does it mean? I'm assuming it's Native American."

Aoiffe rolled her eyes. "Mom loves names with hidden meanings, especially ones that no one can pronounce!"

He chuckled. "Is that how you ended up with Aoiffe?"

She nodded as she chewed a piece of bread. "No one can read it, and they _always _forget how to say it!"

"How's it spelled?" Kathryn had never heard such a name. It was beautiful, she thought, something entirely characteristic.

"A-o-i-f-f-e" she spelled out. "It took me forever to spell my own name. And every year, when I get a new homeroom teacher, it takes them at least two weeks to get used to it!"

"Aoiffe Janeway," Henry lovingly scolded. "You have an absolutely beautiful name. You were named after Mom's great ancestor who came all the way from Ireland-"

"In nineteen o' seven," she finished. "She was one of the first people off the boat at Ellis Island. I know, dad. And it's not that I don't like my name. It's just that I wish it were easier for people over here, _in this country_, to get used to. So," she turned back to Chakotay. "How did you get landed with Chakotay?"

"My father," he laid down his fork and wiped the tomato sauce off the corner of his mouth. "He was very traditional."

Caleb laughed and looked at his father. "Sounds familiar! So how did he pick Chakotay?"

"Well the literal translation of Chakotay in my language is 'great tree'. It was actually my great, great grandfather's name."

"Great tree?" Eli giggled. "That's cool."

"Are you a real Indian, Mr. Chakotay?" Johnny looked up from his own plate, his face charmingly smeared with tomato sauce as he licked his fingers.

"Mmhmm," Chakotay nodded, his face awash with delight. He'd forgotten in these few months what it was like to be around children. They saw the world so differently; their eyes were untainted, clear, and everything they saw and did was shadowed in glorious wonder.

He had loved taking care of Naomi when she was born. Being there to watch her grow and to participate in her life was a gift that he had cherished. She saw things differently, often giving fresh perspectives that he had never considered.

Watching these children, however, was different; they looked so much like what he thought Kathryn would have looked like when she was young, especially Aoiffe. Though phenotypically shorter, Kathryn still would have been as inquisitive, bright eyed, and vivacious.

Conversation and laughter went on around him. He was happy to sit back, belly full, and wine in hand, as he watched Kathryn interact with her family. She was happy – he could see it all over her. This was her dream come true; how often did one have the chance to spend time with the people that they came from? And it wasn't the same with grandparents and great grandparents; they weren't yet the stuff of legends. But Shannon had been a mainstay in the lore of Kathryn's family for generations; she had been her idol, and this was a fantasy realised for her.

But selfishly in the midst of his mirth, a familiar pit of sadness reasserted itself. He and Kathryn would never have this: a table teeming with children, family dinners; a messy, disheveled house filled with squawks of laughter and trouble. And even the thought alone still made his bones ache.


	51. Chapter 51

The children had long since grown bored of the adult conversation. Only Aoiffe and Caleb remained at the table; Shannon had put the two young boys to bed after they started yawning over dessert.

"So tell us, Henry," Kathryn sat back in her chair and leaned towards Chakotay. "When did you move the store into the Millennium Gate?"

Henry grinned as he took another sip of his second glass, savouring the taste of the wine as he let the memories percolate and organize themselves in a cohesive bundle. "Well I suppose that all goes back to how Shannon and I met." He glinted at his wife from across the table.

She returned his humour with a smirk. "I don't think our new friends want to hear that story."

"It's a good story, mom," Caleb gently encouraged. "But I think Jason tells it best."

"Well?" Chakotay grinned, spurring Henry expectantly.

"_Well," _he began. "Let's see. It was just as the year two thousand was coming to an end. I remember like it was yesterday; the whole town was shutting down. The Millennium Group settled on Portage Creek has the ideal place to build their one-of-a-kind experimental _Millennium Gate Project_. They were buying out the whole town, looking to relocate all the businesses to the Gate when it was finished. They were paying everyone handsomely for their properties. And, as a result, everyone sold almost instantly. You have to know that Portage Creek was a very poor town, more like a glorified pit stop in those days…"

Kathryn was captivated, hypnotized by his words on hearing history firsthand. Most of this she read, paraphrased in the lone newspaper clipping that Neelix had found in the Ferengi database. But, like all second-hand accounts, the wonder was lost and the humanity was forgotten in the delivery of dispassionate evidences.

"But I was adamant back then; I wasn't going to sell!" He motioned triumphantly with his arm. "I was the last hold out; if I didn't sell by New Years, then the project would have packed up and gone to their alternate location in Canton, Ohio. And boy I was I determined to hold out."

"Were you ever!" Shannon laughed at the vivid reminiscence.

"I saw the Gate as a threat to our way of life; the big corporate tycoons," he gesticulated firmly, his hand coming down to theatrically pound on the table, rattling the leftover tableware. "They were out to get us – to take everything away from us; our town, our heritage… And I wasn't going to stand for it. So I stood firmly for all those weeks – Alexandria books was the last store open in Portage Creek. And I remember that no one came by the shop; all the neighbours were furious with me- I was holding back progress, they said." He sighed. "Most of them just wanted the project to go ahead because it would salvage the town, get us out of poverty. But I…" his hands dropped into his lap as he cast his gaze downward. "I didn't want to lose what we had – the tradition."

"And then I came along," Shannon whispered, picking him up out of the forlorn mire of his recollections.

He looked up and met her with a serene smile. "Then you came. And you damn well turned my life upside down!"

Aoiffe giggled and looked at Kathryn and Chakotay whose attentions were raptly honed on the interaction between her parents. "And the way that Jason tells it, dad was a real bully to mom when she first came!"

Shannon sat back and folded her arms indignantly. "I suppose he was – weren't you Mister Janeway?"

"I was," he looked down again abashedly. "I'm not ashamed to admit that I was a _little_ stubborn in those days! But then I got to know your mom," he winked as his daughter. "And I fell in love with her. But, you have to remember that she was just as stubborn!"

"There's a statement of fact if I've ever heard one! Yes," she chuckled as she turned to Kathryn. "I remember; I arrived here on December twenty seventh, two thousand. I turned off the freeway into Portage Creek because my car needed gas," She was still grinning at the memory. "In those days, I was still driving the old clunker station wagon that I had bought myself for fifty bucks from a used car lot when I was in college. And boy was it ever decrepit! But, almost like it was fated, my old car broke just as soon as I got into Portage Creek. I remember, I was freezing, completely broke, and I needed somewhere to warm up while I waited for a tow truck to haul my clunker off to the nearest mechanic. And Henry's store here was the only place that was open."

"So," Henry picked the story up again. "She came in and asked me for a job to pay off the mechanic's bill for her car so that she could get to- where was it again?"

"Florida," she volunteered. "I was going down there to get back on my feet. I had a cousin who told me she could get me a job."

"You lost your job?" Kathryn probed; she knew something had happened, but she wanted to know more.

"I did," Shannon nodded solemnly. "It was more like I quit, but they had already decided to let me go."

"What were you doing?" Chakotay asked as he took a sip of coffee.

"I was in training to be an astronaut, exotic as it sounds. In college I studied aerospace engineering. And during my senior year, I applied for a training programme at NASA to prepare to go into space," she rubbed her eyes, as if batting away some misplaced sense of embarrassment. "I made the initial cut because in those days they were looking for more female astronauts. And," she refocused her attention on the couple as her voice became wistful. "Going into space, ever since I saw that first landing on the moon when I was in seventh grade – well I made that my goal."

"So what happened?" Kathryn whispered, her own similar childhood dreams were fomented in her psyche once again as she listened to Shannon's impassioned story. They were so similar, she realized. Only Kathryn had actually been _there_; she had been able to do what Shannon hadn't, and that thought filled her with pride. For some reason, she knew that if she could tell her, the woman in front of her would be similarly ecstatic.

"Well," she exhaled, her hands slapping her lap. "At the time, they were recruiting for the Mars missions and they were going to choose eight from the ten of us to go on for further training. And I wanted it; I wanted it so badly that I could taste it. But, I couldn't pass the final test," she paused. "I couldn't do high altitude training. That was the final screening and I got so, so ill. And do you know what it was?"

Kathryn shook her head, holding her gaze.

"_Vestibulocochlear imbalance_," she laughed. "Vertigo! I _just_ couldn't do high altitude training; I got nauseous, vomited passed out… the whole nine yards! I tried to condition myself; spent hours in the labs. But, it didn't make a difference. I couldn't fight biology. And I wasn't chosen in the end, anyway. "

Chakotay was incredulous. "But you went through all that training, I can't imagine how they would just let you go?"

"Oh they didn't!" Shannon took the napkin off of her lap, placing it in front of her, and leaned her elbows against the edge of the table. "They offered me a desk job, a good salary… It was a good package, and for a moment I was tempted to take it. But I was _so discouraged_. I'd made it my goal to be an astronaut and go into space. I couldn't settle for anything less. So I left everything in a fit in search of a fresh start!"

"And then she ended up here." Henry smiled.

"And then I ended up here," she copied quietly. "And brought _you_ into the twenty first century!"

"That you did. She convinced me to sell at the last moment, and move this town into the future. So," he nodded and turned back to their two guests. "In a very long nutshell, that's how I ended up in the Gate."

"Jason said it's because you loved mom and wanted her to stay and the only way she would was if you sold to the Millennium Group." Aoiffe added dreamily as she looked on and admired her parents.

Her father nodded and ran his hand affectionately through her hair.

"Mmmhmm, and I've been with it ever since. One of the best decisions I ever made. But now, for the first time since we built the damn thing, we're starting to have trouble with the environmental controls and the energy systems. The Botzeman Method," she winked at Kathryn. "Is proving testy, that or it's our raw materials…"

"I don't mind taking a look at it for you; maybe a fresh set of eyes might be all you need to make some adjustments." Kathryn made the offer without considering the ramifications. In her own timeline, before she came to Portage Creek, before she met the Janeways – Shannon was going to have this problem; the Gate itself would start to break down. And though the technology that they produced – at least the theory behind it – would spur forward the Mars missions, the Gate itself would become obsolete before it was obliterated in the attacks.

If Kathryn offered advice, if she gave insight having her advanced background in engineering – would it be altering history? Would she be breaking the Prime Directive by giving her input? Realistically, what she had to offer made little difference. This wasn't like Chronowerx, she placated; she wasn't lending any technology – only a fresh set of eyes….

"Are you an engineer by trade, Kathryn? I've been meaning to ask…" Shannon's attention on the younger woman became rapt, awaiting an answer to her lingering questions.

"Yes, you could say so," Kathryn wavered. "Though I haven't worked strictly as an engineer in years. And now that I work for the camp, my focus is more managerial – looking at contracts, business spreadsheets…" She counted off.

"A jack of all trades," Henry smiled.

"Something like that," Chakotay answered for her, still in awe of the woman sitting next to him as he took her hand under the table.

"And what about you, Chakotay?" Henry started. "What's your background?"

What was his background? Was he a Starfleet officer? A Maquis rebel? A tactics instructor at the Academy? "Anthropology, really. But, like Kathryn, I haven't worked in the field for many years. But," he sighed. "It's always been my main interest."

He looked at the clock on the far wall in the kitchen – virtually the only wall in the house that wasn't covered in books. She read his mind, though, before he'd finished the thought himself. "We have to get going; we've a drive back to Arcadia."

"Oh!" Shannon jumped from the table. "It's nearly ten o'clock, and that's a three hour drive!"

"It's alright," Chakotay smiled. "I don't mind the drive," he gripped her hand tighter. "I've got company."

Shannon walked back with their coats. "Can I get you two anything before you go? Coffee? Do you want anything to take back with you?"

"No, no, thank you, Shannon." Chakotay grinned gratefully as he rose and took the coats, helping Kathryn into hers before donning his own.

"It's been wonderful to talk with the both of you, it's been a while since Shannon and I did anything like this. It's been lovely," Henry admitted gratefully as he rounded the table with his two children.

"No," Kathryn bowed thankfully. "It was our pleasure. Really. Thank you for a lovely dinner and good company."

"Kathryn," Jan walked them towards the door. "Do you have an email address? I'd still be very interested to get your feedback; all of the files are on my work computer, which is at my office back in the Gate."

"Oh of course!" She reached in her pocket where she carried a small pad of paper. "Chakotay," she turned. "Do you have a pen?"

He produced the object before she finished asking for it. "This is our shared address," she wrote. "But please send them to me when you get the chance. I'll look at it right away," she grinned as she ripped the small piece of paper and handed it over.

"Again, I can't tell you how lovely this has been for the both of us," Kathryn grinned at the family – her family. How odd it was still to regard them like that.

"We'll have to do it again. And maybe next time we'll take a trip up to Arcadia – or you can come back here. You're always welcome."

"Likewise," Chakotay nodded as he opened the door to the frigid Indiana night. "And thanks again."

"We'll be in touch!" The family stood in the doorway and waved goodbye. "Drive safe!"


	52. Chapter 52

The streets were dark; empty now as the truck rolled solitarily out of Portage Creek and onto the near-desolate freeway.

That serene, triumphant grin wouldn't leave her face as she smiled into the darkness and watched the town go by. As they passed the sign bidding them farewell from the town's limits, she turned in her seat to look out the rear-view mirror to watch the striking, brightly-lit Millennium Gate fade off into the distance.

"Thank you, Chakotay," she put her hand on his shoulder and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "That was just about the most wonderful gift anyone's ever given me."

He simply smiled in response as he took one hand off the wheel to lightly comb his fingers through her hair. "Happy Valentines Day, Kathryn."

She chortled, still giddy from the whole experience, "Can you believe that we just had dinner with Shannon and Henry Janeway and their children and grandchildren? Four generations of Janeways all under one roof!"

"That we did!" He beamed, catching a glimpse of her beautiful features before he merged easily onto the scantly populated highway.

Back on Voyager he had yearned to see this side of Kathryn; the effervescent, vivacious, and wide-eyed woman who was buried deep beneath viscous, leaden layers of guilt and responsibility. He caught glimpses of her, sometimes, in their private moments. But her walls would always go back up no more than a few milliseconds before they had shimmered out of existence.

Even the Kathryn of New Earth was a slightly different creature than the woman that he saw now. Truly, that situation had been dire; only the two of them and an inquisitive monkey stuck forever on an isolated planet. Even if they had been lovers, or something more than tentative friends at that point, the schema still wouldn't have been comforting. To be forced into living with only one other person for an eternity could be a blessing and a curse, the combination of which he wouldn't wish on anyone.

Kathryn was a woman who pined for community – for connection beyond herself. On Voyager, she isolated herself out of contrition and compunction. But that caged creature wasn't her natural humour.

More than he liked to admit, he used to think of what it would have been like if things were different. What if the conflicts hadn't started back on in the Alpha Quadrant? What if his family hadn't been murdered? What if he and Kathryn had just met at the Academy – would there still have been a spark between them? Or would they have lived in blissful ignorance of each other? If she had married Mark, would she have found some benign impression of happiness? Would he have as well? Perhaps in time he would have gone back to Dorvan V and taken up his father's mantle. Maybe he would have married, had children…

But scenarios that he dreamed of his life without Kathryn always seemed stark, chillingly vacuous, and plainly lacking. He imagined that even if he hadn't known her, he'd always dream of her – turn to tell her things even if she wasn't there to listen to them.

The truth was that he _did_ dream of her. No not her face, per se, or even her voice – but of feeling what he felt only when he was with her: that sense of abiding completion, of divine love, and mutual respect.

The freeway was comfortingly empty. The occasional red and yellow glow from a fellow traveller would come upon them, passing them swiftly, or travelling alongside them for a time. He took his eyes away from the road for a moment to study her. She was still blissful, quietly wrapped in the quilted joy of her new memories.

This is how he wanted her to stay forever: with him, happy. Because this is where _he _wanted to stay. Was it egoistic of him to be so happy so far from their former responsibilities? Was it too_ idealistic_ for him to want to stay here with her like this forever?

She could feel his eyes on her, and as silly as it sounded, she could feel him thinking. She had discovered a long time ago that things between her and Chakotay were intuitive, easy. At first it had unnerved her to be so in tune with another person – to their personal doldrums, melancholies, and temperaments. She stubbornly protested it over the years by putting up barriers between them, ignoring him, and trying anything to banish what intermittently felt like someone else in her mind.

"What are you thinking about, Chakotay?" She turned her body towards him as comfortably as she could with the seatbelt in the way.

"About you, Kathryn," he answered automatically.

"What about me?" She breathed, crossing on leg over the other as she leaned her elbow against the armrest.

He smiled. "About seeing you so happy like you were tonight with Henry and Shannon."

She reached over and took his right hand from the wheel. Two small arms enveloped his muscled bicep before she slid her own hand down and twined their fingers together. "_Thank you_," she whispered ardently.

She sighed as she kissed his shoulder before laying her head there. "Nothing about these past few months has been easy for me. Our being here, stranded so far from the ship; trying to let go of my guilt for things that aren't my fault isn't my forte-" she was fumbling, trying to find the words to express her gratitude and tell him how assiduously she loved him. "But somehow, like you always have, you've made my burdens lighter. _You_ make me happy."

They sat in blissful, comfortable silence for most of the ride home. Townships came and past. Some of the names she recognized, but to none of the places had she been. But it was something she wanted to do: to see more with him, explore her home like she had never been motivated to do before.

Arrogantly she had always assumed there would be time to do things – to see places and people. But if her life's circumstances were any indication, there wasn't time. There were so many things she still wanted to do; and she wanted to do them so badly!

And tonight's experience had made her yearn for them all over again.

The welcome sign for Arcadia's township reflected in the bright lights of the truck.

"_Kathryn_," Chakotay gingerly shrugged his shoulder, rousing her as he moved to take his other hand back and turn off the freeway at their exit. "_Kathryn_," he smiled, and ran a gentle hand over her cheek to try again to wake her.

"_Are we home_?" She muttered woozily.

"Yes," he nodded as he turned down onto a familiar driveway.

"I'm sorry, Chakotay," she yawned. "It seems I'm getting soft in my old age!"

"You were tired," he grinned.

"I know, but so are you and I meant to keep you company."

"You did," he turned down the high beams down as they passed Jan and Gregg's home, careful not to wake them at the late hour.

"Mmm," she rubbed her eyes again as she tried to shake off the heavy weight of somnolence.

"Come on," he parked and turned off the car. "Let's get you to bed, Old Lady," he laughed as a mammoth yawn pried open his own jaws.

She laughed as she yawned again, unable to help it. "You'll eat your words, Old Man. Come on, let's go to bed."


	53. Chapter 53

Kathryn frowned as she ran her fingers through his soft hair. "It's getting long," she whispered. "I think this is the longest I've ever seen it."

"I know. I'll have to get it cut," he cachinnated. "Or I'm going to start looking like my grandfather."

"I'll cut it for you," she whispered as she moved closer to him on the bed and pulled her sweater around her as the icy air howling outside their home seemed to cleverly seep into the room and shroud it in a glacial envelope.

"You know how to cut hair?" He drew her in as she wrapped her leg around his and saddled into his side, sharing his warmth.

"Well, I'm no expert, but I can manage it – especially yours."

"I always assumed you went to the holodeck."

"Oh?" she looked up from his chest, questioning before she recognized his assumption. "No. Sam did it."

"Sam Wildman?"

"Mmm," she grinned that he didn't know; it was always a little bit of a game with her: how much about the crew did she know that Chakotay didn't? Over dinner in her quarters they would gossip – and rarely did she have anything to add. He seemed to know everything about the ship – from the latest on the lower decks, to everything that was buzzing around the messhall. He knew more about her ship than he did! "She always cut my hair. Didn't _you know_ she was Voyager's designated barber and hairstylist?"

"No," he smiled at her little game – she'd finally one-upped him. "I always went to the holodeck. A few times B'Elanna tried, but it was always a disaster."

"When was that?" She had an idea – he never went back to those crew cuts he wore in the early days.

"By the looks of it, I think you know!"

"That's also when you started dyeing your greys," she winked.

He blushed and laughed heartily at that. "Gods, I hoped you hadn't noticed that!"

"Oh Chakotay," she became mock serious. "Nothing slips past me – especially where you're concerned."

"Ditto." His tone became wistful as he though back to all those years ago – when he first came on board – when she still had that elaborate bun. "I missed your hair when you cut it. One night you left the bridge with that ponytail and the next morning you strode down those steps with hair up to your ears!"

She laughed at the memory of seeing his face on that morning – the sheer hilarity of it was burned into her mind forever. "Your eyes fell out of your head!" She laughed enthusiastically. "And you tried so hard not to say anything!" She did a passable impression of his voice and facial expression. "_'Good, uh, good morning Capthryn, I meant… Captain. Ship's status re-short! Port_!"

"But I thought I did a good job!" He sniggered at the shared recollection. "I didn't say a word. Not even in the ready room later on."

"I know," she patted his chest. "You showed so much restraint! Secretly," she eyed him conspiratorially. "I wanted to get a rise out of you."

"Un unh," he shook his head against the pillow as his arms moved to trace patterns on the bony protrusions of her vertebrae. "I told you; I have the control of a saint."

"Mmm," she wagged her eyebrows suggestively while her hand travelled south. "That we know for sure!"

"Kathryn!" He balked before laughter again retook its garrison. He held her hand, trapped it over his groin and she felt him hardening, the heat of him searing through the heavy sweatpants.

Her breath caught, and their moment of levity became subdued as his pupils dilated in tandem with hers.

He studied her silently as she did him. Like always, he admired the small things: how perfectly those freckles adorned her nose, the light colour and shape of her eyebrows, the charming divot over her right eye, and the slight frown lines around her mouth whose presence seemed to be receding more and more each day they spent here. "Don't cut it," he whispered, almost begging.

She beamed down at him, holding his eyes, as she seductively trailed her nail over the hardness of him. "_Kathryn_," he gasped and bucked at the exquisite sensation before she teasingly meandered her way up over the muscled firmness of his stomach, across the powerful expanse of his chest, lightly up his neck, and back to his face.

His fingers curled into lovingly disheveled auburn waves as he enjoyed the feel in his hands. "I missed it when you cut it."

"It was heavy. Gave me an awful headache! And that bun took me almost an hour," she laughed at the memory of that complex, twisting hairstyle and all its permutations as she struggled to find the perfect one.

"Then don't put it up," he contended.

"Do you know how long it took me to roll my hair into that ponytail? Almost as long as it took me to get the bun!"

"Then don't wear it in a ponytail," he laughed. "Keep it down."

"It makes me hot."

"It's cold here."

She frowned in response.

"Then cut it," he grinned as he rolled her under him. "You're beautiful no matter how you wear it."

"I'll grow it out. I've missed it." She admitted plaintively, running her finger along the bridge of his nose.

He laughed effusively as his warm weight settled on hers. "Has anyone ever told you that you're infuriating sometimes?"

She smiled broadly and wriggled her hips, telling him what she wanted. "Only you."

His arm snaked under the covers and slid under he knee as he opened her to him. Preternaturally he knew where to press, where to grind, so that he hit her clit straight on. The feeling was exquisite, even through the layers of cotton.

"Ooooh," her own hand meandered under the blankets to hold him hard against her while they moved in counterpoint. It was like this sometimes with them; they would try to start out slowly and savour the foreplay. But somehow it always seemed to get lost and trampled along the way. He captured her lips, and pried them open with the subdued force of his own. His tongue traced her teeth, one by one moving forwards to backwards as she did the same.

An eager hand slipped under the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down as he mirrored her action, fumbling adorably in his vigour as he went.

"We've really got to learn how to do slow and romantic," he mumbled breathlessly against her neck as he began impatiently nipping at the skin there.

"You know what they say, don't you?" She was having trouble gasping, let alone thinking when the naked flesh of his thighs met hers and tickled the oversenstised skin.

"No, what?" He nudged her legs farther apart and rubbed himself against her, eliciting trembles and shudders before he made the commitment and slid into her. She was sodden, making the transition into her tight heat seamless.

She groaned as she grabbed the taut skin of his buttocks as she staved off what would have been something akin to instantaneous orgasm. "_Practice_," she gasped. "_Makes perfect_."

"Is that what they say?" He uttered as he lightly bit her bottom lip and he ground into her.

She cried out at the sheer pleasure of it all: of being so full, of being with him, of how he knew her body so intuitively, of how badly she wanted him even though he was freely hers for the taking.

His thrusts were short as he kept a steady pressure against her clitoris and ground deliciously against her pubis. Her face buried in his neck, all she could do was cry and moan as he goaded her closer and closer to a shattering orgasm. She came first, like always. Her back strung taut as a bow, she howled his name into the freezing room. Not seconds later, he came in hot bursts, her name ripped from his lips once he'd felt her clench violently around him.

The force of his own come left his body effete as he collapsed, still joined, onto her. Still quaking, he whimpered in sheer pleasure as she continued to spasm around his hypersenstive, softening member.

Chakotay moved to leave; still afraid he would crush her. But in protest, her legs came up to envelop him, keeping him where he was.

"We didn't even get all of our clothes off," she laughed.

"I know," he kissed her delicate, sinewy neck before he rose up on his left arm and looked down at her. "You're still wearing your sweater."

"So are you."

"It's going to take us a while to get to slow and romantic."

"Well," she reiterated with a grin. "You know what they say."

"Practice makes perfect?"

"Just checking that you were listening," she combed her small fingers through his hair, drawing him down to her again.

"Always," he breathed, claiming her mouth, and taking her all over again.


	54. Chapter 54

**Hey Everyone! So sorry that I've been out of the loop this week. I've been on gastro surgery rotation and we've to be in for seven each morning and my schedule is so variable. Here's to getting some more chapters pounded out and uploaded this weekend. Sorry guys! -Becca**

_/_

_"Slowly, Chakotay," He enunciated his name traditionally, with all three syllables clearly articulated. "You're going too fast!"_

_The young boy threw down the primitive tools and walked away. "What's wrong with the way that I'm doing it?"_

_The older man smiled patiently as he walked around the large piece while he ran his hand over the rough, splintered surface. "Each cut of wood is unique, and each piece tells its own story," he explained. "And it's the job of the carver to tell that story."_

_"Dad," He rolled his eyes, wiping his clammy brow in the sweltering heat. "It's just a piece of wood."_

_"No," Kolopak shook his head, picking up the petulantly discarded tool as he handed it back to his son. "Now," he winked, placing the cool metal firmly in Chakotay's hand. "Slowly."_

Chakotay smiled at the memory as he scrubbed the piece in front of him with the small segment of sandpaper. It was warm out this particular day; for the first time he could leave the cabin without a coat.

He watched the calculated movements of his own hands as they moved quickly over the nubby wood. In the midst of the repeated actions, his mind started to wander.

First he thought of the bathtub. He made it in secret, at a location hidden from her insatiable curiosity. It was large and unwieldy, so when he had finished all of the components, he had taken them back to the cabin one by one and assembled the monstrosity while she was out setting traps. Elation was the only word that described her features when he presented it to her. _"Oh Chakotay," she sighed. "It's perfect." Tears threatened her in that moment. "Thank you._" Giving that to her and seeing how happy she was wet his appetite; he wanted to do more, give her more – share more with her if only to see her like that all the time.

He thought of the headboard he made her for her mattress. It was small and had taken less than a day to make. She'd been delighted when she came home from setting traps had seen it placed behind her bed. Padded with some left over raw materials, it had been the perfect perch for her to use while reading late at night. "_Almost as good as the bathtub,_" she laughed when she entered her room.

Vigorously, he sanded the edges, wearing down their toothed spikiness, preparing them for the carvings he had planned. When was the last time he carved something? His movements stopped as he thought back. Oh, that's right: Naomi's cradle.

It had been the first time he'd created something of that kind. He knew that Ktarians grew faster than human children. And though Naomi was only half Ktarian, he'd made the cradle with a little bit of wriggle room.

Armed with a plain piece of wood from an unnamed planet, he had set himself to work before and after his duty shifts. Larger, more unwieldy, tools hollowed out the arid log, giving him the blueprint for the final structure. When he was satisfied with the shape, he'd set to the rocking base. Rudimentary screws and hinges were placed and for the first time since he started he could see the final result coming together. The last part was the carving; that took the most time. He carved small planets, the largest of which was Ktaris and her solar system, which occupied one whole side. On the other half were planets that he'd taken note of during their time in the Delta Quadrant. Sneakily, he carved New Earth and her stars. He finished with Earth, and an image of Voyager and her triumphant return. He left it that way, unpainted bar a coat of shellac, which sunk into and highlighted the delicate intricacies that his hands had produced.

He stopped, breathing heavily, as he noticed sweat dripping onto the wood. "What's this?" A familiar voice shattered his reverie.

He smiled, hearing light footsteps bring her closer to him as her shoes crunched over the concrete floor of the barn. "A project."

"Oh?" She laughed, slipping in front of him as he laid down his utensil. "Is it a secret?"

She had studied him from the open door. Toned arms were visible underneath his shirt, broad shoulders with burgeoning muscles clearly rippled in the heat of his determined, attentive manoeuvres. He always became like this when he was focused. He would laugh at her for becoming so engrossed in her work to the point that she shut out the world and sank into oblivion. But he did it as well.

He must have known, but not said anything; today was the day that the unrest started – today was the beginning of the end. She read it when she went to check their email; the explosions had already gone off while they were still asleep, wrapped around one another in bed. Taking a look at the headline and reading the story quickly, she held her breath and let it out in one shaky exhalation before she'd run to find him here.

"So?" She goaded, putting away her anxiety. "Is it a bathtub?"

"No," he laughed. "Not quite."

"Shame," she frowned. "I miss my old one."

"One day," he promised. But, in his mind's eye – after this year, there would be no more 'one day'.

She knew he was lying, placating her. She wasn't naïve, but chose not to point out his folly. "We have work to do. Are you coming home soon?"

He let his gaze drop. "Work."

Her hands went to his arms before they slid up the damp fabric to his face. "We can't stop living our lives because we know what's coming. We still have business to do, contracts to make, bills to pay…"

He smiled genuinely; she sounded like him. "You sound like someone I know."

She grinned crookedly. "Well, I do live with him," Kathryn rolled her eyes. "I'm bound to pick up a thing or two." Those hands moved back down his arms to his hands as she removed the worn yellow work gloves and set them on his latest venture. Small pale fingers tangled with his warm ones as she goaded him on back to their home.


End file.
